Standing with Faith

The first week of visitations is over. The biggest sigh of relief hit my beaten body when the clock struck 3p on Wednesday afternoon. We made it through the week. Even still, why do I feel defeated, worn, like I just walked through a field of landmines?

I knew that I would fall fast and hard for any child that came into my home. That is who I am. I love deep. I love hard. I love with all my heart can offer. And when I got the call to pick up a little boy needing a home I was there in a flash. When we locked eyes and his baby blues looked at me and he smiled I was hooked. Nothing else in my world mattered more than taking little man home where he would be loved, cherished and adored by our family. And in the last 50 days we’ve cared for our little guy with everything we’ve got.

In 50 days the three of us – Jeremy, little one, and I – have bonded in a way that you’d expect a new born and his parents to bond. I walk into the room and he smiles. I sing and he smiles. Jeremy talks to him and he smiles. We have spent countless hours huddled together praying over him. Countless hours in fear over his health. Sat in ER rooms keeping him occupied. In hospital beds comforting his cries of uncomfortableness. We know what works to get him to sleep. We know what works to calm restlessness. We know the difference between each cry. We, for all intent and purpose, are a family. And yet, we are nothing but his caregivers.

That was evident when I walked into the DSHS office on Tuesday. The lady who walked away from this sweet boy decided to walk back in. And the hardest thing I ever did since being his mama was to hand him back over to her. My heart ached but I reminded myself of grace. I told myself maybe this woman needs me more than baby? And so, I looked at baby, called him by name and said, “Look, it’s your mama.” I walked out of that office in tears.

Wednesday I thought it would be better. Unlike Tuesday I knew I was going to have to face her. I was mentally prepared spending most of the day in prayer. As we waited for the visitation specialist we did a little small talk. She picked our son up and instead of looking at her to smile he liked at me and smiled. Refusing to look at her no matter how hard she tried. She turned him away from me so he couldn’t see me and said, “Your mom is right here.” Lord, I prayed, calm my heart. I scurried out of that office broken.

My job is to follow the path chosen by the state. That path is currently reunification. Which means I must stand with her and support her all while everything in me says no. It means showing up to visits with our son and handing him over even when I know the last two nights after visitation he was not about it. The chosen path means that I look up and remember that God is in control and my prayer must always be His will be done. Which, may I add, is the hardest prayer to pray in the world. It means praying for little one to be happy, to be healthy, and to grow up knowing and loving God with or without me. It means I am not in control and I must instead just stand with Faith.

I just don’t know how much longer I can do it. Lord, I’m trying to remember you control all things. But, I need something to keep me busy while I remember. xoxo

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