The good, the bad and the Johnsons

THE GOOD:

So far baby R has moved in and will officially be our foster daughter as soon as court is over (next Wednesday?). We have the birth family's blessing (sort of, more or less) and for now there is minimal drama in that department. Visitations will start with her birth parents possibly next week...let the drama begin.

Throughout this process I just find myself tearing up at different points in the day...you know, when I REALLY think about all that has taken place in my life. I really wanted baby R back. REALLY wanted twins. But I wasn't asking God for those things because what were the chances? He knew the deep down desires of my heart and sometimes, in some situations, He is able to work out the perfect circumstances for it all to come together like a Heavenly dream. I mean, that's the only way I can describe it. Like I just want to call somebody and say, "You've GOT to make a movie about my LIFE somebody!!"...At LEAST a Lifetime channel one!!...or at least a really long commercial! Seriously...The girl who looses a girl, then gets twins, then looses a twin, then gets two miracle boys, then gets another girl, then looses another girl, then gets another girl, then gets the girl back and ENDS UP WITH TWINS...I mean, I would fold laundry watching that movie FO' SHO'!

But this wonderful place we find ourselves in has not come without having to go through a lot of pain (that hurt a lot), a lot of waiting (when we didn't want to wait), a lot of trusting (when we didn't want to trust) and a lot of hope for what was yet to come (and still is). And we don't know what's around the corner either...These babies are still not ours. They can be taken in an instant just as R was taken last time. But when I feel anxious, I just take my babies to the Lord, just as I do when my sons have health scares, and I put them in God's hands and remind myself that they are all His children first and if he wants them to be in my care that is what I desire more than anything else, but if He has another plan for them I will trust Him with it.

I am also very mindful of the painful place that R's family is in as Mike and I are rejoicing to have her back in our lives. They are having to give her up, and are going through medical trials and business decisions as well. I had a talk with R's aunt, who was going to adopt her, and I told her that I didn't understand why she was going through one of the worst times in her life while I was going through one of my best, but I had been in a similar spot as her and that I knew that her mountain top would come and that I would be praying. It's hard to rejoice when someone you know hurts, but it's also nice to be able to be extra sensitive where you might not have been before. Please pray for them in their transition.

THE BAD:

We are all adjusting. It is harder than I thought. I mean some parts. I knew it would be a lot of work and that is no surprise, but my husband is a rockstar with high amounts of help and low expectations and a huge supply of encouragement. He's amazing. So we're getting through that part. But I'm having failure feelings. I have NO TIME for the boys and I fear they will hate me, or forget my name. I also had this dream that I would see baby R and she would run into my arms and grab me and remember me and our mother-daughter bond would just pick up where it ended three months ago. That's not so. She doesn't remember me and she is having some difficulty adjusting, as would any baby going through everything she has gone through in her little life, but that's causing me to feel like I'm doing something wrong and I've failed her. And then I'm not dividing my time between her and G properly, so G just sits quietly in her swing wondering who in "h" is hogging her mommy up. (SIGH) It will all work out, but this is the immediate struggle. Please pray. And come over and take my boys to the park. That would help too. =-)

THE JOHNSONS:

Here's a good idea of what life is like with us now: Coming home from church the other night, we packed the kids in the car. IMMEDIATELY, R starts screaming. She's been fed, she's been changed, but she likes to scream. And let me tell you, her volume is unlike anything I have ever heard. It makes Mike's music sounds practically on mute. Then, to couple that, Tyler starts screaming from the back row. His lips hurt. Naturally. But we don't usually pay much attention to that. Well, since R is so loud, he must trump her. "HUSBAND, DID YOU SEE THAT GIRL JESSICA TONIGHT?"

"WHAT?"

"THAT NEW GIRL, JESSICA. SHE HAS BOYS IN THE YOUTH GROUP AND A REALLY COOL TATTOO."

"WHAT?"

"HONEY, THIS IS JUST HOW LOUD IT'S GOING TO BE FROM NOW ON. YOU JUST HAVE TO BLOCK IT OUT AND LISTEN TO MY STORY ABOUT JESSICA'S TATTOO!"

"WELL THEN YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO YELL LOUDER BECAUSE I CANNOT HEAR YOU!!"

"OKAY!~" And the whole way home, we YELLED, and laughed, as our kids screamed their hearts out. And sometimes, that's just the way it goes. That's our life, and that's how it's going to be. Sometimes it's overwhelming, sometimes I cry (in the bad way) and want to pull my hair out, but you know what? I'd rather be frustrated and overwhelmed for a season, knowing I'm doing something good for God and for these kids rather than sitting around bored and comfortable wondering what I should do with my life. So that's the good, the bad and the Johnsons...for now.

Here's to Sisters....

Have I told you I hate change? Some change is good. Like the new sweatshirt I'm wearing. That's good change. Especially when my husband says, "I like the hemp like coloring of the drawstrings," and I say, "Thanks Napoleon Dynamite," and then we both have to wipe tears from our eyes from laughing so hard. But also there is change that is hard. One hard change I made myself come to grips with tonight.

My mom was an entrepreneur. Always a new idea and always a business of some sort going somewhere. Her ideas cost my dad a lot of money. But he always had her back and let her try. And she kept on trying. They were a great team that way. One of her worst/best ideas was the Shag Scarf that she made on a knitting machine from home. Those kitting machines were about a yard and a half long, had all kinds of metal hooks going every which way and some sort of a flat-iron looking contraption that you slid back and forth along the thing until "wha-lah"! It made a Shag Scarf. Now the scarf itself was...hideous (sorry if any of you readers still wear yours. But it's true.) It was made out of the yarn that has the pokeys coming out of it? You know what I'm talking about right? All of the pokeys everywhere? And then every inch or so more pokeys down the line, throughout the scarf, so once a whole scarf was knitted together it was a whole triangle tied to your neck of pokeys. It looked like your throat got in an accident with a bad Madonna hairdo. But bless her heart...she sold a ton, at least to every lady in our church because that became known as Shag Scarf city. My mom knew how to get people to help her too. I'd come home from school and there'd be some stranger on the couch, with the Madonna throat problem, with the knitting machine on her lap and mom would be on the chair with another one. They'd both be watching Oprah and mom would just turn around and say, "Darbi, you remember Karen..... from Costco?" Of course! I'd grab a quick snack and head directly to my knitting machine. She made everything fun too. Even child labor law abuse. She had so many gifts.

I don't remember what year it was, but mom was finally able to open a store outside of her home. Her and her sisters bought a beautiful house in a great location and opened it as an antiques and home accessories shop. It was called Sisters. There was a garden room where we had sandwiches and espresso and a floral shop and everything. It was WONDERFUL. I had a hot dog cart out front one summer called Darbi's Dawgs (and I have the sign in my garage to prove it!). I ate there with dates before high school dances, I talked to my sister-in-law after her first date with my brother, I had my high school graduation party there, I learned about inventory and how dad gets mad when mom and I buy too much, I learned all about espresso and how to never call it eXpresso, but what I learned the most from my mom was how to love people no matter what you are doing.

People came in there to buy a greeting card and before you knew it, they were telling her their life story and she was crying with them, laughing with them and loving on them with every ounce of her being. When you opened the door to Sisters, you opened the door to love. Everyone was welcome. Everyone was treated with respect. You were a friend, you were her sister. Unfortunately though, business is business and the sales on the antiques side of things weren't as hopping as on the restaurant side of things, so Sisters was sold to new owners before mom passed away about 9 years ago. But the Sisters years were some of the best years..,.

Fast forward to tonight. Mike and I were able to go on a date. We decided to try the restaurant that now fills the shoes of my mom's store. It's called Ballyhoo's, an Irish pub. I've driven by the store for years, always staring and trying to see in the windows as best as I can, but never having the nerve to go in, always knowing it would tear my heart out. I kept waiting for someone just as good as mom to go in and really spruce the place up but it hasn't happened yet. Maybe it will be a pub forever. And that's okay. But I think it's time to go in.

When we're at the front door I'm already emotional. I remember taking pictures of mom, Aunt Nancy, Aunt Janet, Aunt Kathy and Aunt Carolyn when we first opened on these very steps. And I think we need a plaque out here that says "This is where the Darbi Johnson had her first iced Mocha" because I know I've sunk at LEAST a couple grand into those since having my first one here. But when I opened the front door instead of hearing soft piano music, smelling a vanilla candle and seeing my mom's smiling face, I smelled must, saw re-painted walls, re-done everything and couldn't find her anywhere. Anywhere. I looked. As I walked into every area, slowly and tried my best to remember where everything was, exactly as she had it, and couldn't really, tears filled up in my eyes. Don't get me wrong. It was a great pub. But Dianne was gone. Still gone. And I wanted her to be there, to ask me how my day was at school, to tell me to go ahead and make myself an iced mocha and then to listen to all of my pitiful girl drama like only she could, to tear up when I teared up, to laugh at everything I thought was funny and then to just randomly walk over and kiss me on the head because that's what moms do and I miss her and that's her store and I'm still her kid.

Well, Mike and I found a table and we ordered and started talking and I didn't want to talk about the store or I would loose it so I asked him, "Do you want to play MASH?" and he said, "Yeah," so we got out some paper and we played a children's game in which you pretend to predict the future about where you're going to live, how many kids you'll have, what kind of car you'll drive and we laughed with each other and talked just the two of us and had a totally awesome date. I looked at him and I thought, "Do all people who have been married 11 1/2 years get to have this much fun? Are they this in love? I am sure a lucky girl because I am so in love with this guy. " After we ate we took a brief walk in a park. That's where a few tears came out. I told Mike, "I miss my mom." He said, "I know." I said, "I think she would have liked us." He looked at me awkwardly, "You mean still liked us?" What I meant is that I just think she would like the adults we are. We seemed to be kids when she died. She just loved to see Mike laugh. She'd just say, "Look it!" and we'd just watch him...and he still does that...wouldn't she still want to see that? And I think she'd want to see that I'm a lot like her. I mean, they can take my mom and all of her stuff out of a really important building, but they can never take Dianne out of me. So I guess tonight Dianne was at Sisters. =-) I really miss you mom.

Blog it out...

I don't know what to do or who to call first. I have a bazillion what if's, why's and how's running through my brain. There is no chocolate in the house, I've searched. Well, there is a bit of leftover easter bunny that is so stale it is not worth the calories. Mike's not answering his phone. I'm stressed. Is it the good kind of stress or the bad kind? Not in a category. It's the life altering kind. The uncomfortable kind. The kind nobody really wants to be in, yet we somehow find ourselves in often. We have to make a choice. A very hard choice, and just as we've learned before, God will not give us a black and white answer. That is one of the qualities we wish we could change about God. Free will is a nice thing most of the time when we're running about doing our daily lives...but when it comes to things that are hard...things that border on life or death, or the destiny of the life of a child...these are the things in which we should certainly get direct texting capabilities with our Heavenly Father.

Perhaps I've told you this before. If I have, sit tight and read it again, for it applies here as well. There was a day about 7 years ago that I was pregnant with twins whose lives were in great danger. Mike and I had decided that I would undergo a surgery that was to save both babies lives in-utero. It would separate their blood and nutrition systems from each other so that they could survive on their own. They would be doing this through a small incision in my stomach and into my womb, using a laser and a scope that were the size of the inside of a ball-point pen. Incredible.

The day before the surgery I asked them if I could please be put to sleep for the surgery, as it would be lengthy, there could be several complications and I was just plain anxious, as you could imagine. Here's what they told me: "You need to be awake because if we get in there and there is a complication, we will ask you if you want us to tie off Carter's chord (so that he can no longer live) so that Blake will have a chance to live, or if you will want us to leave the boys as they are and they will both most likely die." That's the choice that Mike and I had to make. Tie off one son's life line to save the other, or leave him alone and give them both a slim to none chance to make it. Us. Human us. Sure, we have God, and pray our buns off, we did, but once again, that texting thing sure would have been nice. THANK GOD our surgeon did the procedure just as it was to be done and we did not have to choose either way. Baby Carter held on for another 5 weeks post surgery but then he passed away, and his brother Blake just turned a healthy, happy 7! But my point is there are SO MANY CHOICES out there that we humans should not have to make!!! And it seems as though we find ourselves in another difficult one...

Our first foster daughter was in our home for 2 months. We were madly in love with that baby girl and wanted her to know Jesus above all else. She was moved from our home quite rapidly into a biological aunts home who was going to adopt her. About a month or so later we got our next placement and we are crazy mad in love with her! We've had her for a little over 2 months and she has us around her finger!! Life couldn't be better here at the Johnson home. And it looks like our baby girl's case is going to move toward adoption at a record pace...low drama.

Last Sunday when I was holding her in church and singing, I had our first baby girl heavy on my heart. I know we poured love into her for two months, but where is her future going to go? I know nothing about her new family. Will she ever finally get adopted? Who is going to teach her about Jesus? And the tears began.

Fast forward to today. It's a text from my social worker. She asks if she can drive down to visit. Last time she wanted to visit in person it was to tell me that our first baby would be leaving our home. She remembers to write, "don't freak out...it's a good visit." She knows me too well. I tell her to get her buns over here! Tyler lays on the floor with his Star Wars guys and I play with the baby. 40 minutes seem like 4 days. What could it be? Things are already good with our baby girl...How could they possibly get "good-er"? Did they forego the adoption policies all together and now we just get to have her? That would be good-er. Here she is. Do I say hi first or just make her give it to me?

She looks at my stroller. Points to it. "How'd you like to get a double stroller?" Wha? "What are you talking about?" The first thing I actually pictured was my baby and her birth mom....in the double stroller. That was a ministry I was not going to get into. "Baby _____ is available and everyone wants you to have her back." I threw my head back in disbelief. This was so not what I expected! "What? How did this happen?" Well, I don't know if I can put it on here, but the short of it is, she is available, and the birth family wants her to go back to us. Also, if we don't take her, the next family in line is...to put it nicely, not favorable. But no pressure.

The first question on everyone's mind is "What about your current baby (man, I can't wait until I can just say their names! And post pictures! And videos!) ?" We will be keeping her for sure! So in the event that we would take the first baby back, these babies would be 2 months apart. Now, the emotions of us say YESSSSS!!!! Give her back!!!!! But the other side is this: We would be welcoming back the drama of weekly visits with drug addicted, mentally ill parents, wishy-washy adoption plans for probably years to come, we would have twin babies, twin toddlers, twin teenagers, twin wedding gowns, everything! We would have the chance to change two lives instead of one. We would get to rescue two innocent orphans out of the pits of addiction instead of one. We would get to introduce two little girls to Jesus instead of one. We would get to watch two big brothers fall in love with two little sisters instead of one. We will have to pay for diapers for two babies instead of one, but if there's a couple strong enough to do it, I think we just might be able to. And if there's a God who can help give us the strength to do it, we've learned over and over and OVER again that He can.

For a God who has given my Michael and me so, so, so much in return for us giving Him so very little, what better way can we pay Him back but by taking care of those who are so heavy on His heart? It's just that first I have to ask Mike...

You give and take away, you give and take away, my heart will choose to say,

Lord Blessed Be Your Name!!

Here goes somethin'!

Well it's been quite a while. We've had an eventful summer. We got a new baby sister (don't worry, she's a lot cuter than the picture, but we also love the sock monkey that Grandma Sue made for her)...Blake turned 7 and Tyler turned 5...(I can't believe my eyes!!)
Tyler, Mommy and Blake took swimming lessons... (Daddy filled in when he could!)
And the boys experienced their first Omak rodeo at Aunt Debbie's house!! (and their first of many public appearances in men's sized cowboy hats. Drove mommy wild!) Tried to get Mike to wear one too but all he would wear was a sombrero. Not the same effect...(nothing against sombreros)
A fun filled, but glad it's over summer. And boy was that week of sunshine nice or what? Please. I still have the rainy crankys left over from last fall, and now it's about to start all over...

So we must return to the subject of the new baby because I know people are dying to know: She is wonderful. She is healthy. She is smiling all over the place and even laughed out loud once and we've been trying and trying to get her to do it again and haven't won yet, but it will come...oh yes, it will come. I'm constantly after the boys for being in her "space". They just want to be in her face all the time and it makes her little eyebrows wrinkle. I think it's the same face I give them a good portion of the day. Soon enough she'll have a voice of her own and a little hand push-off to go with it and they'll be in trouble. But I love to see them love on her. That I could sit and watch for days...if only they would be more available for the practical side of things. Diaper changes, 4am feedings, what have you.

I will keep things very simple on the blog about baby girl's situation...please pray for the process. It looks like we might be headed in the way of adoption, but for one, that can be long, frustrating, and probably will include another set of fingerprints for me, but would result in a forever home for what we're praying is a wonderful match for our family. She seems to be the perfect match right now. And at the same time we stand guarded...knowing that at any point any of this can change in an instant. It's just how the system works. So as this sweet one is in our arms and we are loving her more and more each day, just pray that the right thing is done, that the best thing is done for her little life. That she would be safe, healthy and loved and to have a chance to know God. These are the things we want above all else...and we selfishly pray that these things can be done in our home with her last name being Johnson! And then I will finally get to post all of the pictures I want of her on here. Hairbows, nail polish and all!

Another thing that happened this summer is that I took a good, hard look at myself and realized just how out of control I was. I mean seriously out of control. For example, I would start the laundry machine at 1am and make sure it had 3 dish cloths, 2 pairs of boys underwear, an outfit for me, an outfit for the baby AND towels for baths JUST so we'd have clean stuff for the next day. Then around 2am I would go to sleep. It only gets worse from there. But what I started to think was, "What do I get done? I mean really get done? Sure, the kids are healthy, fed, happy, husband's happy, I'm happy, but am I just doing enough to get by or am I doing all that I can?" No, siry-Bob, I'm not talking about some super-amped-up-you-gotta-be-your-greatest-you-and-then-tell-Oprah-all-about-it crap because some of these book writer/ program seller people aim a little too high for the average Joe and then we fail at that high and so then we go back to feeling okay about doing nothing. So here's my plan...A reasonable schedule for my day which allows flexibility (especially on weekends) but still gets my life in order, allows time for exercise, family time, individual kid time, God time and me time, PLUS a "little bit more".

This little bit more portion of my week is going to be my legacy, in case there isn't much of a forever because we just can't control that, but it also could be the start of something bigger, or not. At the very least it will be good for my mind, my soul, my heart, my family, my kids, my future generations, my friends and whoever should choose to read it.....have you caught on??? I am finally going to write. I live and breath and eat it. My mind blogs while I'm driving in the car without me even knowing it. It's my passion, my calling, and I just don't want any more time to go by without me doing it. So here's where you come in: What should I do? What would you want to read first? What would you buy? Do you have connections? Tell me everything and anything you want because I want to hear it. I have children's books written in my closet that I haven't done anything with...I could do something with those first, or I could write my story but where do I start? Where do I end? It seems like every time I want to end the book God writes another really good chapter. You're the ones I trust because you're the ones who keep telling me to write so now tell me what to do and I'll do it...(maybe, but you're not the boss.)

A little order to your life, a little TLC to your body, and some meaning in your day can do a lot for your heart! Instead of dropping my priorities to work on a project like writing and letting everything else pile and pile up, now I can breathe slowly, get the toilets scrubbed and the baby changed and then have time for the things I love, guilt free! And I can't wait to see what this girl comes up with! My mom would be freaking out!

Almost Mine

Today the waves of emotion were extreme. One minute I'm out to lunch, laughing it up with my girlfriends and before I know it I'm back home...pink blankets and laundry all around and before long I'm curled up in bed, hanging on to her picture, crying myself to sleep. In the mail came a package...three beautiful outfits for baby Evie from my aunt and uncle. They came one day too late. I get in the car to take Blake to school and her car seat is in the back, empty. I'm doing life just fine, but little things, big things, I never know when, can turn my mood quickly to the pain of loosing the baby girl who was almost mine.

I wanted to record a few things about Evie so I will never forget them....starting with day one.

- When we picked you up from the hospital it was very bitter sweet. For us to get you meant someone else was loosing you. In the car on the way home I told Mike I felt guilty for not having that instant magical mommy feeling when I saw you, the way I did with my other children. He said, "You had those babies for 9 months before you saw them. You just met this baby today. Give it time." And he was right. By that night you were mine.

- Immediately you started to nurse on my chin. I loved that not only because it was a thing that just you and me had, but also because I used to do that to my mom when I was little. You and me were meant to be. Two months later you still did this and I could feel your sweet baby breath on my jaw as you pacified yourself there. It left your hair to tickle my nose. Precious. No other way to say it really.

- Ah, the hair bows!!! I was so excited to dress you every day and of course to give you the perfect hair accessory to go with each outfit. The bigger, the better. I wonder how long you would have put up with that?

- I remember once when Blake was about 18 months and I was home with him and I painted my toenails red. He asked if I'd do his to. Of COURSE I said yes!! So I did it, and boy did Mike ever freak out when he got home and saw his little boy with a pedicure! He took that polish off immediately and told me to never do that again. Well with you, Evie, I had permission to do everything girly and not get into trouble. I believe you were 5 weeks when I finally painted your toes bright pink. I can't believe it took me that long! Nothing sweeter than a baby in a diaper and toenail polish.

- At about the 5 week mark of getting nearly no sleep because of your presence with us, and feeling like I was at the end of my rope, I was holding you in the kitchen and we locked eyes and you gave me a huge grin! I felt like I could go another year with no sleep as long as it meant I'd get to see you smile. It filled my heart with so much love and joy that I just couldn't wait for you to do it again. Right before you left us, you were grinning much more often. It was the highlight of each day. I pray that joy never leaves you and that your Aunt will work her head off, sometimes throwing her neck out, just to get you to laugh/smile like I did.

- You hated the car so we would often hear your screams from one errand to the next. But there was nothing like taking you out, lifting you up, having you cuddle into my neck and sigh. Instant relief. You knew you were safe there.

- Having you sleep on my chest for hours on end.

- Seeing you sleep on your daddy's chest.

- Blake was madly in love with you, always checking on you and being the helper, but Tyler was SO constantly into his baby "thister". He couldn't walk past you even once without giving you a big kiss on the head that often would wake you up or at least shift your head about your little body. Your eyebrows said, "Yep, that's my brother. He does that."

I think I could go on forever with all of the little things that I loved about you but in general I loved you without limits, I loved you unconditionally, I love you still and always will...my precious girl who was almost mine.

When I got that package in the mail it stung a little bit. This isn't how things are "supposed" to happen. The baby comes, you get lots of presents and then the baby stays. Simple as that. But if we wanted a plan that predictable and easy, we would have gone a different route. Having a baby of our own, adopting privately, etc. But we were called to the foster care ministry because these kids need us. They need to have love, joy and peace while their world around them is in complete chaos. We know we may loose 20 more before we get a "keeper", or our next placement may be the one. That does make me nervous...I don't want to grieve by choice. Who does? But I know that whatever comes our way we will stand firm in our faith in God, we will cling to each other, our friends and our family and we will be strong enough to face the next situation with hope. My hope comes from picturing my God walking along side of me as I heal, holding me close and saying, "Be strong. You can do this. Cast all of your cares upon me, and don't worry...I already know the child who is going to remain in your family...and she's almost yours."

"Adoption is not for the weak..."

I want to puke. It can't be real. The familiar pains in every part of my body. Screaming won't help. Tried chocolate...didn't help. The only thing that gets you through grief is going straight through it. Nothing else. But I hate it. I'm sick of it. I don't want to do it. But I asked for it.

Yesterday started as an ordinary day. No sleep as the baby kept me up for going on the 8th week in a row. Mike came home from work, did the dishes quietly as we slept on the couch. I sleep on my back with her laying on my chest. Her fresh, soft baby hair, tickles the underside of my nose. There's no better feeling. "MOM!! I don't have any underwear!!" Tyler interrupts. Yeah, so laundry has taken a back seat, along with most of the household chores since little Evie has entered our world. I find myself most weekdays doing one load with exactly one outfit for everyone JUST so that we have enough to make it. I get off the couch to look for Ty's underwear with Evie in my left hand, still sound asleep. I've re-learned the skill of doing everything one handed. Laundry, bottle washing, lunch packing, typing, all kinds of stuff. It takes twelve times as long, but as long as I can hold the baby and get something done...I just don't want to put her down. She doesn't want to be put down either. It's this deal we both have. We kinda' like each other.

Eventually we head for Tacoma so Evie can visit her birth parents. We've done this twice a week for the 8 weeks she's been with us. We take her into the Youth for Christ office where her parents come, we talk for a brief minute, they take her into a supervised visitation room, and then we go shopping, to the beach, Costco, whatever for 2 hrs. and then come and pick her up. Our Social Worker from the agency works in that building. She's a great gal, that Ciara. She answers any question we might have instantly by text, she's got great style and she loves the Sounders.

We knew going up to the office this time that Ciara wanted to talk to both of us. This could be good or bad. In not typical Mike and Darbi fashion, Mike thought good, I thought bad. As we reached the exit, I was in tears. Mike reached his hand over to me and grabbed mine.

"What's wrong?"

"I just don't know what she could want to talk about besides bad news and I just don't want any."

"Do you want to pray about it?"

"You pray. I can't."

"But I'm driving, so I can't. You have to."

Silence...

"(through tears, in my ugly voice,) God, be with us, whatever it is. Continue to be our strength."

And then it happened. We walked into the office, were seated on a couch and told the news. That Evie would be moved to her Aunts house, and that it would't be in a couple of months like we thought could happen, it would be in a couple of days. And the grief begins...

This is not supposed to be a sad story. Evie is going to a great home. She will be raised with her cousins and her Aunt will adopt her if her parents can't pull it together. Her Aunt is experienced with her own family and has already set very clear boundaries with the birth parents as to visits and what-not. She is going to be just fine. She's just not going to be ours.

Another part to this story is that before we left the building, tears still in my eyes and Evie in my arms, they had us talk to the placement coordinator about what kind of baby we would like next and how soon we would be ready. We said SOON. We could have a new one before you all realize she's gone. But it still won't be her and it won't make it easier to have such an abrupt loss that we had so much hope in.

But what I do want to respond to is the statement I hear all the time..."Adoption is not for the week". That is a bunch of bull. I am weak. One of the weakest there is. I have been known to cry at the result of a game show people!! This is how emotionally vulnerable I am. And even though I am canceling yet another baby shower in my life, packing up my Evie's clothes and facing the risk of never seeing the girl who was mine for 8 weeks ever again, it was all worth it FOR HER. Where else would she have gone? Who else would have held her? Who else would have played Jack Johnson in the car when they thought she was scared and there was nothing else they could do because they were on the road? Who else would have picked out the godiest pieces of headwear and showed her off to the crowds like a princess? Who else would have asked God for the strength to let their guard down and allow them to love this little girl like she was her mommy, even if it meant just for a little while? Who else?

If you're asking yourself if you could ever do something like this...you can. It hurts like hell, but you can for these kids. My life is not about me. It is about listening to a God whose heart hurts for broken families, and doing my part to help restore these families or to take a child away from a situation that cannot be resolved. I will do this at the cost of allowing pain into my heart but in return, oh what love....Oh what love.

When will I learn?

There are lessons in life I cannot seem to get through my head, though time and time I realize that they are true. Sugar is bad for me. My son, although only in the first grade, really does need to do his daily homework. Being uncomfortable is good...not only in the gym, but also in the heart.

I have to back up. There have been two times in my life when I have felt like I was directly in the palm of God's hand. May sound hoakey I know, but let me explain. When Blake was about 18 months old I got the news that my former college room mate Darcy had just found out her full-term baby girl's heart had stopped beating. She was in Pennsylvania and I was in Olympia and because I had experienced what she would go through in the next few days it killed me to think of her going through that without me. I felt that way because my biggest help in my time of need, other than strength drawn from God, was the strength from people who had gone through that themselves and came out okay on the other side. My church gave me money and within a few hours I was on a plane. I got there just hours after baby Keira was born. I got to love on my friend, pray for her, talk with her family, friends and church family and offer the hope and peace that was given to me when I lost my babies. I had never felt so close to God, like I was doing EXACTLY what he wanted me to be doing. I wanted to do that forever. Fortunately, I don't get the chance to minister that way very often. We are blessed with healthy babies all around us.

The next time I felt that way was 4 weeks ago in Poland. As we prepared for our trip little things would pop up along the way that would make me even more uncomfortable about going. "We'll be staying in people's homes instead of a hotel". What now? "There will be no coffee." Ummm, excuse me? "Oh, and the pastor said we might be going to a prison." HA!! NOT ME!! That is where I draw the line!! Like, seriously. I am already freaking out about this trip, no phone, no coffee, no Mikey. And have I told you that my mom and her sisters have a long history of wetting their pants in uncomfortable situations? I am NOT about to test whether this is a hereditary trait in the middle of a prison in Poland...GOT IT?!?

So there we were. 15 of us, in the middle of a prison in Poland. Just like in a movie. We couldn't bring a thing except our clothes on our backs and our passports. It had already been a long trip, physically, emotionally and everything-else-ically. We didn't know what to expect except that about 15 prisoners would show up for a church-type service and we would do some dramas and share some testimonies. Well, more like 60 men came. And we had one guard...who was watching us through a window. He was through a locked door, up a flight of stairs, and watching through a window. And there were 60 against 15. No handcuffs, no nothing. If I had thought about those odds BEFORE we left, I probably would have wet my pants. Thankfully no riots broke out.

The men all sat amongst us. They spoke briefly through our interpreter as to why they came. Some came weekly to the church meetings because they were Christians and it meant a lot to them. Some came for the free cake. For some, it was their very first time. We sang songs. We performed our dramas. I was able to share my story of loosing my babies and how God was able to lift me up even when it seemed like I had nothing to get up for. My dear friend Matt, our youth pastor, closed with a perfect message and it was time to mingle.

Immediately a prisoner comes straight toward me with the interpreter. He has tears streaming down his face. He thanks me for sharing.

"When I committed my crime I lost everything. My job, my house, my family, my children...When I came here I did not want to live. I will be here for 25 years. But then I came to these meetings and I met Jesus Christ. He helped me realize that it is not what I have done that I live for, but what I can do now. So I can still have a purpose in this prison. I can invite my friends to this meeting. I can pray for people. I can read the Bible, and I can learn about God. I can do a lot for God even while I am here doing the time for my crime. I will not waste my time. God gave me hope when I thought I had none." Isn't that amazing?

Another man, about my dad's age, came up and in very broken English said, "I will pray for you."

"You will pray for me?" I was VERY humbled by that. He would obviously have so many prayers of his own to pray, I assumed.

He said, "You believe in God. I believe in God. Now you are my sister." Amazing.

Every man I met was amazing. Their words surprised me. As a group, prisoners are overwhelming, intimidating. Individually, just a guy who sins like you and me.

Between talking to some of the men, I was crying, and now even more exhausted than before. I turned to Matt and said, "Is this real life?" He looked at me and said, "This is real life when you're working for God."

I did a lot of growing up in that prison. God gave me a taste of what we can do when we let him get us a little uncomfortable. And just what we could be missing out on when we tell him "no".

At that point I was SOOOO drained, I turned off my brain and started to get silly. Also a family trait. In Poland it's not nearly as common for people to have tattoos, especially girls, so I decided to seize the day. Nothing inappropriate, I have one on my forearm. But there was a guy there who would TOTALLY be the killer in a movie (and probably was) (a killer) (not in a movie). He was running the show. Bald, tall, skinny, THICK glasses that make his eyes look the size of pancakes. When he told the guys to be quiet, they did in a jiffy. He had tattoos on all showing parts. I went straight for him (don't worry Aunt Kathy...we had that guard there, remember?). I tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at me through the top of his glasses. Face as straight as the jacket he probably wore in the daytime. I rolled up my sleeve, knowing it was too late to run now, and pointed to the flower on my arm. He looked at it. He looked at me. He smiled a grin that showed all three of his teeth. He hit another guy on the arm and waved him over. Then another. Soon, it was an appropriate version of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Again, Matt zooms by. "Darbi...you are NOT showing off your tattoos..." I say, "WHEN am I EVER going to get a chance to do THIS???"

So, this is my life. One minute I'm learning something life-changing and growing up, and the next minute I'm showing off my tattoos to prisoners in Poland. But it's a beautiful life...it's my life. I'm doing my best for God, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

There's somebody in our car seat!

So, (I know I should probably not start a sentence with the word "so" but it's the best way to start a really good story that I'm telling to my really good friends. So that's how this story shall begin...) I walk in the door from running some errands and my mind is spinning, still trying to process all that was Poland. I'm telling you, it was an amazing trip, and someday I'm going to tell you all about it. But just as I enter the house I see Mike. He's sitting on the couch. He has the phone. He says, "Want to go out tonight?"

I say, "Sure." We are very spoiled by our parents living close to us, so we get to go on dates and have free babysitting on a regular basis.

"Wanna go to (name of hospital)?" Oh dear. He left his sunglasses there during work and now he wants to go pick them up and call it a "date". How romantic. I smile and roll my eyes. Maybe we'll get some free plastic gloves and I can try out my ballooning skills. Even better.

He stands up and looks at me in the eyes. "Wife...Do you want to go to the hospital to get our baby?"

I couldn't believe his words were true. It was like we had waited for this moment for nearly 2 years and yet hadn't had "any time" to prepare. It was exciting and frightening, happy and sad, the easiest and one of the hardest births we've ever been a part of...and it's only the beginning.

There is a lot about our daughter that I want to share and that I know you want to know but I cannot because it is a foster to adopt situation. I can't post pictures of her sweet face or tell you her name. I cannot tell you the story of why her mother is not able to take care of her right now. I can't tell you the details of the visits she'll have with her birth parents starting this Friday and the court dates that will fill in the time between now and her possible adoption day. But I can tell you this; We are in love. Dangerously in love with the little girl who is living in our house. And that just makes things difficult.

When I tucked Blake and Ty into bed the other night Ty said, "Is thith the thisthter we get to keep?"

"Yeah mom, I want to keep her!" Blake chimed in. Realizing the reality of how her presence affects the boys already was heart-wrenching.

I sat by their bed, with their sister in my arms and said, "We just don't know how long baby sister is going to be here. She is living with us because her mommy and daddy are making bad choices right now. We need to pray that they will make good choices so she can be with her family. But if they don't make good choices, she will stay with us."

"But we want her to stay!" Blake says. So do I. I'm teaching my children the agreement that is on paper. Reunification with the family is object #1. Adoption is second. But is that what I want? And if I'm doing this as a ministry am I supposed to be doing what I want, or what God wants?

I am fighting with myself on the subject. Part of me (the selfish, ugly part) wants to grow a beard, change my name to "Ace" and move my family to Montana where they'll never find us. No courts, no visits, no taking away of the people you love. Kind of like heaven only illegal and we'd have to pay taxes. This is also the part of me that wants to see the birth family fail miserably...all for my selfish gain. But who actually wishes that on somebody? I don't want that to be me.

So then I start thinking about this baby girl in my arms and how she was born into a broken world, into a very broken family. She didn't choose it. It wasn't her fault. I don't even think God's to blame on this one. He set us up with some pretty sweet digs when this place was starting out...just open your Bible to Genesis! It was man that started screwing everything up. And the world gets uglier and uglier as we make poor choice after poor choice.....and bazillions of children are caught with the consequences. It's another part of life that isn't fair.

But this is the thing about God...I know He has the power to speak the words and this baby's family would turn completely around, I'd feel great about where she was headed and we'd all be friends so that I could still go to her birthday parties. It'd be great. BUT He doesn't always work that way. He gave us a brain and he gives us choices. Choices that are huge. Choices that sometimes seem impossible. But as I've experienced time and time again, he never leaves us to make these choices alone.

So, as my daughter's birth family makes the choice to cling to or flee from addictions, to possibly break past behaviors and weather or not to fight for the little girl in my arms;

I CHOOSE to hold her every minute I have because time is so precious.

I CHOOSE to take more pictures of her than of any other living thing because I just can't help it.

I CHOOSE to walk around Fred Meyer with great pride and joy while others peek and giggle at her because this might be her only chance to be a rockstar.

I CHOOSE to let her brothers kiss her as much as they want even though they have germs because they are in love too and I need to let them show it.

I CHOOSE to pray for her life, that she will always feel loved, safe and know Jesus because as her mom I might be the only one who remembers to pray.

I CHOOSE to love this little girl like nobody else can because she deserves nothing less and because it's what God calls us to do.

Poland Part 1: The News

This trip was amazing. Incredible. I found new fears and broke down ones I didn't think were possible to overcome. (Besides the fear of going 10 days without coffee...only to find there was an espresso machine right there in our living quarters!) Physically I was pushed and hurt in little tiny corners of my shoulders and toes that usually don't demand much attention. Friendships were deepened through both the toughest of times and the true release of late-night belly laughs. Tears were shed by seeing repeatedly how good my God is, and just how majestically he works through the big things and in the little things, specifically in me.
I suppose it will take several posts to talk about the easier things (the traveling, the beauty of the city itself, the food, etc.) and the harder things that I'm still processing. But it will all be on here and hopefully worth the read. So now we begin with Poland Part 1:

The News

So, remember the last post? I was a bit whiny and preachy. The way I usually get when I'm insecure with the way things are going. But if I do recall, the main reason I was going on this trip in the first place was not because I wanted to, but rather out of obedience to God. I was no longer going to sit around and waste my time waiting for this foster baby process. I was going to get out there and work for God, wether that meant doing something I considered fun or not. Poland with a bunch of teenagers doing street ministry? Not.

On the trip we are told to not have any contact with home. Mostly for the sake of the kids with the overbearing moms. Give them an inch and they'll expect a mile. Well, the ministry just doesn't have time to stop every half hour so that Jimmy can get ahold of his mom to tell her he took his vitamins on time and ate the crust on his PB and J. To make the rule easiest, they've just said everyone going on the trip has to follow the same no-contact rule.

Well, you see, we had the head guy Mark, at our hostel. He had a computer and he was kind enough to let us leaders have a couple of minutes in the evening to post a note to our spouses on facebook. It was wonderful. Almost made the trip harder because it made us miss them more, but it was wonderful. One night I knew Mark was leaving the next day, so as I was chatting live with my Mikey, I said, "I won't be able to talk anymore as Mark's taking the computer but I love you to bits and bits and pray for us!!!" That would be all for 6 more days. I wrote in my journal and went to sleep. Very early in the morning Sherry woke me up. She said, "Darbi, Mike's on the computer and needs to talk to you right away." My first thought, honestly? Who's dead? I barely had my balance and walked into the men's dorm room and got on. Mike was on-line. I said, "Hello?"

"Hi. Did you see it?"

"See what? What's going on?" All possible tragedies are going through my mind.

"Your pictures. Go to your page and look at your pictures."

And here is the picture I saw:

I couldn't believe my eyes. I knew this day would come but not so soon. I mean, I know that sounds funny when we've been waiting almost 2 years on a 6 month process, but let me explain. There are times when I pray and pray about something and it seems God doesn't answer the way I want, or he doesn't answer in a black and white way, so it leaves me "guessing" as to what I am supposed to be doing...the "best answer", or how I could best be doing what he would want me to do. But then there are times like these (and they don't happen very often) when I say to God, "I want to have a foster baby, but I want to follow you more so I'm going on this trip. If YOU WANT me to have a foster baby, then let your will be done in your time. It's hard to wait, but it's in your time." And on that very trip, it happens.

I learned so much about myself on the trip, more confidence on who I am in God, what kind of a mom I can be because of the things I can do on his strength, that I just feel even more equipped to fight for these babies that so desperately need homes and need Jesus even more. I am ready now and he knew that. And I just can't wait. As soon as a baby is ready for us THEY WILL CALL!!!! Isn't that exciting?!?!?

Goodnight for now.

While I'm Waiting...

If life were going my way, I would be sending out baby announcements right now, not writing this letter. The joy of the pink and the sweet little baby face with the details about just what this little being we're waiting for will look like would be sweetly scrap-booked for all the world to see. But in case you didn't know before I am still not God, so therefore we will wait...and wait...and maybe even wait some more...until the perfect child is ready for our home.

Of course the wait is hard. Of course I'm consuming increased levels of chocolate on an almost daily basis to try to handle the stress, and of course I shed a few tears now and again and that's okay. But the most important thing I need to do during this time is learn and listen. I believe it is when we are uncomfortable that if we reach out to God, He can do His best work in us and through us.

It's always uncomfortable for me when life isn't going my way. Our foster license was supposed to take about 6 months to get and we're coming up on almost 2 years, still without a license. There has been a hiccup at ever turn. Last summer our church gave an opportunity to go to Louisiana and help build houses. I let that chance slip by because according to my plan we would for SURE have our baby by then. That summer came and went and the group had an awesome time on that trip while I sat at home.

Well, this year our church offered a different kind of trip. One that makes me uncomfortable in many ways. I will be leaving the continent for the first time and traveling to Poland. I will be leading a group of youth. I will not be going to an orphanage and caring for children as I've done in the past. That would be comfortable. I will be doing street ministry. Yep, just walking on up to people and telling them what God has done in my life. And also giving them balloon animals. You pretty much can't get any weirder than that. =-) I will be away from Mike and my kids and unable to use a cel phone or computer for 13 days. And the worst part....THERE WILL BE NO COFFEE. Folks, I AM GOING TO BE UNCOMFORTABLE!!!! Can you feel it???

(Side note - Our group of teens and adults will be part of a group of about 200 who will all hit Poland in the beginning of April. We will put on concerts, dramas, movies in the parks and so-on. It won't be ALL weird. And by weird I mean uncomfortable. =-))

Anywho...here's the short version of how I'll be winding up on the plane to Poland: To be completely honest (and to PLEASE not hurt any one's feelings!) when I first heard that was where the church decided to go I thought, "Why in the world would we go there for a missions trip? The people there have plenty of food! No natural disasters and not an exceeding amount of poverty. It's silly! Why can't we go feed people in Africa or build houses in Mexico? You know, meet a tangible need?" Then it was, "Oh, STREET ministry, yeah, I don't really DO that. Those people are kind of mean and obnoxious (at least the ones on Jerry Springer and in downtown Portland.)" Then here's what I heard..."Oh Darbi... (He didn't call me a swear word. That's how I knew it was Jesus) Let's just take a tiny little walk down memory lane..." (Also I embellish His vocabulary for the sake of the story. I don't really hear an audible voice, He just gently rubs stuff in my face. Now back to the story.)

"Do you remember the very first time you had to place your whole trust in me? All of your hope in me?"

"I sure do. It was in the hospital. When I had to say good-bye to my mom. I had her hand in mine and I couldn't let go because I knew it would be the very last time I held it. I said to you, 'I can't, but You can. ' And you gave me the strength to sing her the same lullaby she sang to me when I was a baby, and then to say good-bye and to let go. It was awesome. It wasn't me. It was you."

"And then the next year, do you remember what we went through together?"

"Yes. The same kind of thing only with my baby girl. I didn't think I could handle seeing her without completely loosing it, knowing she never even got to take a breath. I looked up at the ceiling and said, 'I can't but You can.' Mike walked into my hospital room with our little girl in his arms and she was the most beautiful thing we had ever seen. Because of Your strength and peace, we were able to feel the joy that first time parents get to feel. It was more than awesome. That was all you, too."

"Do you think a God who got you through all that and more might be worth telling people about? Maybe even the people in Poland?"

"Especially the people in Poland."

Who in the heck do I think I am telling anyone what types of mission trips do or don't work? Where or where they should not take place? Which country needs one over the next? A person who doesn't know about God is a person who doesn't know about God and that's what needs to go on...people need to know about God because I can't imagine my life without Him.

But I'm still going to be uncomfortable, so CAN YOU HELP ME?

1. Because there will be no communication allowed with me and my home (unless there is an emergency) I would like to find 13 people who will send me notes that I can open every day. That way I can feel like I've "called home". So if you think you can do that, ask for my address through facebook or e-mail and I'd love to give it to you. If you send it in the mail, please mark it "DO NOT READ UNTIL POLAND" or I will open it because I will just think you love me. Please send the cards by March 15th. If any of you would like to write some to the youth, that would be AWESOME too! Let me know!

2. PLEASE PRAY. There's lots to pray about, so hopefully lots of you will!

- Mike will be home taking care of the kids for 13 days!

- Mike's mom Sue will be going through chemo.

- Our foster baby will be getting ready for us.

- There are a million things to go wrong and right on the trip- I'm pretty nervous about an 18 hr flight!

- Everyone stays healthy- no migraines for me specifically.

- We will learn and grow and people will accept us.

- I will find an instant coffee that doesn't taste like death.

I went shopping yesterday and I bought a few things for the trip and I also bought some fun pink paper for my baby announcements. Even through this time I have hope that this is not forever. There will be some major dancing going on when our adoption is one day final and we can relax knowing that our child is safe in our arms and we won't have to rely on paperwork or the state ever again. But there are going to be a lot of trials until then. It won't be easy. We can't but He can.

There is a song that I love and I will end with it's lyrics. Thank you for reading this friends. One thing I'm thankful for is I will never walk alone because of my God and because of the mountains and mountains of friends He has given to me...while I'm waiting.

I’m waiting

I’m waiting on You, Lord

And I am hopeful

I’m waiting on You, Lord

Though it is painful

But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident

Taking every step in obedience

While I’m waiting

I will serve You

While I’m waiting

I will worship

While I’m waiting

I will not faint

I’ll be running the race

Even while I wait

I’m waiting

I’m waiting on You, Lord

And I am peaceful

I’m waiting on You, Lord

Though it’s not easy

But faithfully, I will wait

Yes, I will wait

I will serve You while I’m waiting

I will worship while I’m waiting

I will serve You while I’m waiting

I will worship while I’m waiting

I will serve You while I’m waiting

I will worship while I’m waiting on You, Lord

While I'm Waiting by John Waller

I Was Running (in Forrest Gump voice)!

I'm not what you'd really call an "active person". I don't "regularly exercise". I don't raise my heartbeat past its resting rate unless Mike comes home in his uniform. I am, I'll say it, fat and lazy. But not anymore.

It's crazy how many consequences we, as humans, need to see before we begin to think, "huh, maybe I should do something about that". For example the surgeon who spends his days removing lung cancer takes his breaks to smoke like a chimney, or the alcoholic who watches Intervention episodes and says, "Man, those guys are idiots!" Neither sees a correlation to the problem in their own lives, only in others.

Well, this is how I've been about my weight. I've been watching Biggest Loser for probably 6 seasons, cheered them on with success as each overweight person slimmed down on live TV and gave their families the greatest thing they've ever had in their lives...themselves.

I try things all the time to loose weight and quit weeks and most often days later because that's just what I do. But I have to keep going. I have to keep trying. I can't let the weight issue win with me because, well, I just won't let it, and because I owe my family more. I owe mySELF more.

One angle I haven't really tried much is exercise because I've NEVER found something I like. I always hear that...to find something you like, but that would have to involve other people and food in order to keep me interested. I can find a friend to exercise with sometimes, but I hear eating while exercising is frowned upon.

Well, I think I just may have found something I like. At least for almost 4 weeks I've liked it. And that's why I'm blogging about it. Because I want people to know I've started and to ask me about it (and therefore keep me accountable) and also because it makes for a good story, to read about a fat girl who runs.

The other day I experienced, for the first time in my LIFE, going beyond my goal and I was so proud of my accomplishment that I immediately wrote the following e-mail to my girlfriends Lindsay and Laura, who also are fairly new to running. Here is that e-mail:

So, there I was, me, my cut-off sweats and my mini-van headed for the gym. I'm not one for goals, or really pushing myself, but have been proud to make it there twice to three times a week to run 60 to 90 second intervals every 2-3 minutes. But I was ready to push. I'm done being the fat girl that doesn't try. So I said to myself, "Self, why don't you just run that first interval and try to keep going past that first 90 seconds and see what happens. In fact, why don't you try to go FOUR minutes without stopping?" I knew I probably wouldn't make it, but I thought it sounded fun.
I sucked in my stomach and handed the hot guy at the desk my keys. I gave him the "It's me, Darbi the Runner" nod." Last time I was in there and dropped of my kids at the child care center they said, "Hi! Are you guys new?" Shut up. We've been going here two years...every three months. But now I'm Darbi the Runner. Everyone will know it.
So I found the treadmill of my choice, plugged in my earphones, turned on Days of our Lives, warmed up and started to run. And guess what? I ran for 10 MINUTES, yes I did!! 10 MINUTES!!! And I think I probably could have gone farther but I was starting to cry and wanted to hurry and get home and tell Mike. =-) When I DID get home to tell him, I started to cry again. He said, "What?!" and I just stood there. I told him the news. He said, "Goll, by the look on your face I thought you filled our van with Haiti orphans or something." =-) Nope, just that run. It was amazing. I've never done that in my LIFE. Not even in PE because my mom always wrote me a note. Yep, I was that girl.
So, I'm headed toward the 5 K in March and I can't wait. It'll be hard but awesome and I just can't wait. Maybe I'll even pass some people!

Back to the blog: I know I can't have this high forever, and the percentages of success are against me as far as weight loss go, but if I'm going to die early I want to make sure it isn't from something I've done to my body. That just doesn't seem right. I want to have as much time with my grandkids as is humanly possible. I want to give my kids and my Mike the most and the best of me that their can be. Those are just some of the reasons I'm going to run.

I'm off to the gym right now. I hope it's as fun as it was last time, but I know it won't be every time. I'm just glad I wrote this down so that down the road if I'm not "into it" or have a bad day, I can remember I'm Darbi the Runner and sometimes I just plain kick bottom.

When's a good time to have a baby?

I've heard people say they're waiting to have a baby because of certain reasons...they want to finish school first, wait until their loan is paid off, get a better job, have their other kids grow a bit, buy a bigger house, save up for a van, and I admire those people. I really do. Especially when they can actually stick to those plans. To me, that's what the 9 months of growing a baby is for...the planning. Any more time than that to plan anything would be excessive. I'm very impatient, especially when it comes to the matters of tiny people (one of my favorite things).

But what happens next is you might be in the right position financially, physically and emotionally and decide to start trying to have a baby and there's a whole new list of things that can blow your plans off track. For example a womb that once worked after the first try can just decide it doesn't want to work anymore, an adoption that is supposed to take around 6 months can take years, or congratulations, triplets! I guess I'm just realizing that the more and more I try to plan my family, the less control I realize I actually have over any part of it...and I'm finally okay with that.

Today was our home study which really should have been called a you study. I have been asked far less at a job interview, and yet I wish all people would have to go through such an interview before being denied or allowed to conceive. The case worker wanted to know how old my parents were when they met. (I don't know, old?) Where is the location of our tree frog we had listed in the paper work a year ago? (6 feet under.) What kind of grades did I get in middle school? (Were there grades? I thought there were just boys.) The questions continued for 2 1/2 hrs. But then they got good:

"Mike, what attracted you to Darbi?" We smiled, paused and looked at each other. This was not one we had practiced ahead of time. I didn't know what he was going to say.

"Other girls made me feel like I had to be different. But not her. She just liked me for who I was from the beginning. I didn't have to try to be somebody else. I was just me. And she liked me. " I got all teary but tried to keep it together. Only losers cry during their home studies.

"And what would you say is the hardest thing you have ever been through as a couple?" And out the tears come. I looked at him and gave him a nod and he told her the story of loosing our Hope. He told her how it was by far the hardest thing we'd gone through, but we did in fact get through it because of our faith, our friends and our family that stood by our side and held us up when we couldn't stand on our own.

"And what would you say has been the very best thing you've experienced?" I immediately said, "Blake's birth" just as Mike said, "The rest." I looked at him and just paused in a moment of awe. If we were in a movie right then the camera would have zoomed in on me staring into his cute face for a while while the case worker went on with her questions but some mushy song would be playing in the background. He's a man of few words, so when he says them I just melt.

Looking back at our marriage so far we definitely didn't get the kids we planned or when we wanted them. But a life any different than the one we've lived is so hard to imagine. We've done life together and we've got some qualities of an 80 year old couple because of it. We couldn't bond that way or learn those things if we would have taken the easy path we had "planned" for ourselves.

The case worker left our house this afternoon and will write up a 13-17 page profile of her visit with us today. That will be placed on top of all of our paperwork and sent to the licensor who will hopefully give us a license in about a month. But none of that is in our control. Any number of things can happen in the meantime that can either speed up or slow down the process of getting our baby into our hands. And that's okay.

My life is perfectly imperfect and complete right now with a history of blessings and bruises along the way that shaped me into the Darbi I'm supposed to be, the mom I'm supposed to be of the children I'm supposed to have. There will be a next one, I don't know who or when, but when they enter this home there will be so much love, laughter, care and hope waiting for them that there won't be room for their little cheeks!

So when's a good time to have a baby? Never...and always.