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.