I don’t know if I can do this? I don’t want to think about it… this. This is the sad side of adoption and if I think too hard about why we’re both here I’ll never do it. Never move forward. Never receive a gift I know is mine alone to claim. I’ll be afraid to…jump.
Reading Dear Birthmother, a book recommended by the agency, started all of this. Before, I could do this without really thinking about you. I could adopt a baby and move on. There’d be me and this baby, now mine and just a memory of you. “No. This is not my plan. This won’t be the last time you see her.” Those words and a powerful revelation…jumped through my spirit. I heard what He said and I knew what He meant. This would be an open adoption.
Recycled Lifetime movie images on televised, make-believe adoption drama made me fearful. So how can I do this? I don’t know anyone who’s done this. How do they do this? Ofcourse she’ll want her back. Ofcourse I won’t be able to. How can we meet? How can we talk about a baby, her baby in the room and act like what happened between us never transpired. How will we….jump.
If this is Gods doing, and we both believe it is, we’ll have to jump. We’ll make this thing work because we both love the little sugar ball of a girl that connects us. We’ll push past doubt and fear of the unknown, of the expectations and limitations of society and we will create a family that never existed before we…jumped.
I’ll never know the side of the story that is yours alone to tell. You’ve shared bits of it with me and I can imagine your struggle but I’ll never know it. My side of the story holds secrets unknown to you. Truth is we lived on opposite sides of the same coin of pain and by the grace of God we met – through the love of a girl. When we didn’t have to. We didn’t have to…jump.
we jumped! Mother’s Day 2012
another party with LisaJo Baker and friends (www.lisajobaker.com) ….
Please do not reprint any portion of these posts without prior written permission. Thank you.(c) Copyright Lisha Epperson, 2011-13
I see myself and women like me humbly bowing to the grace and caught in the beautiful surrender of adoption…each taking our turn in this dance of human redemption
As my life comes to a close and I remember the joy of family, the people God has placed at my side by blood and choice… I will undoubtedly see the faces of my children’s birth mothers. My passion is my family and in God’s providence it includes the women who bore 3 of my children.
The ultimate story of love tells of the giving of a son..that the world might through him be redeemed. The greatest gift…perhaps the greatest love of all. I am blessed to have met each of these women face to face and now have some form of connection with each of them. We have gingerly carved out ways to stay connected to each other that is comfortable for us – navigating the term “open adoption” and defining it for ourselves.
Thus far this connection has taken place through emails, on Facebook and has extended so far as to include attendance at a wedding and mutual home visits. This love is wild…all encompassing. I know these women by heart. The stories I tell of how we all found each other, our lives colliding like a majestic meteoric explosion, is both brilliant and bitter. Yet the journeys were no less filled with the holy agape kind of love than any other birth. The transaction took place on the deepest level of my soul and I am certain that a piece of me walks with each of them…that I have the pleasure of mothering my children with living angels at my side. My proverbial village has been enlarged and opening myself to experience it…to include these women… has made me the recipient of a broader scope of love. In the sacred space we shared, in those moments of complete humility and surrender, I am convinced that God, Immanuel was with us. He was there as the responsibility for a soul was transferred from one woman to another. He was there.
woman to woman
These women made the selfless choice to give…what no one else could give and in giving , assisted in the redemption of my life through motherhood. The price was paid and lives were changed…at the crossroads of adoption. Operating from this place of truth, the children we call “ours” are raised whole. I am stunned by the beauty of our connection, humbled by the size of this love and forever captured in the grace of it all.
My life is full and has known joys and delights unimaginable, struggle, disappointment, and pain but my passion is my family and my family includes these women. We share something utterly precious…and completely holy….the gift of a child.
Please do not reprint any portion of these posts without prior written permission. Thank you.(c) Copyright Lisha Epperson, 2011-13
I wish you were with me…here. I wish you were with me…near. Your voice. Your scent. Your thoughts. They follow me constantly and I know you are…here. How could I know that yesterdays exchange of words would be our last? The love, anger, laughter, hurt feelings, joy – the dreams..our dreams…The two sides of the coin that is our relationship. The good. The bad – coexisting wonderfully to make us – us. I didn’t know that my eyes would never again twinkle as they met yours. Oh the thoughts remain – the feelings – the same, but you…are not…here
I miss you terribly. Our last words play over and over in my head – a recycled loop of regret stained love..over and over again. I hope you know I loved you. I hope you know how I loved you. I hope you know… I wish you were here.
The kids have coped well – if that’s what you call continuing to live even though a part of you has died. They sweetly try to protect me from the torrential flood of tears that could overtake our home at any given moment. Life without you has been hard – the past year fraught with warnings of impending danger at every turn. Yield. Stop. Slow. All signs indicating attention should be paid, that there is a clear and present need for you… here. I wait patiently for Go but really…I’d just rather have you..here.
I will never forget your touch, your kiss. the way you do the thing you do best – being the best you for an imperfect me. So I long for you and believe for us – that God’s plan is greater…even though you aren’t here.
In loving memory of Jonathan Roper whose lovely wife Elaine, I call friend, sister, comrade…warrior.
Linking up with www.lisajobaker.com and friends for Five Minute Fridays. Please take a moment to read and comment on the work of these beautifully gifted women who pour their souls out on paper every day..for healing..for hope..
Unless otherwise noted, the contents of this blog are copyrighted by Lisha Epperson. Please do not reprint any portion of these posts without prior written permission. Thank you.(c) Copyright Lisha Epperson, 2011-13
picture perfect… just not ready for marriage editorial from City Magazine circa 1992?
Rodney and I struggled while dating. I rushed towards the call for permanence. He froze when the sound of wedding bells inevitably infiltrated our little bubble of love. We needed help.
Our love for each other was a sure thing..so why the push and pull..the stop? the go? What hindered him from taking steps toward the future and why was I in such a hurry to make it all happen? I tell friends all the time – had we forced a marriage during that season it would have surely ended in divorce. He wasn’t ready and neither was I. God painfully separated something we’d built and re-established it according to His plan. For only then could we meet “face to face” and be what we both desired… together.
I am a believer when it comes to premarital counseling. The hours long meeting with an apparent stranger where you either try desperately to work through long-standing issues in an impossibly short amount of time or gloss over them with a few Bible cliches while pressing onward and upward to a wedding date, that probably shouldn’t happen – isn’t counseling. Rodney and I endured 10 months of counseling with our then pastor – who would not offer her blessing unless released by the Lord and only after spending months of one on one time with us. Pressure was applied. There were prayers. There were tears. There was a purpose.
It was during this time that we learned each other, setting the foundation for a marriage that would be challenged…almost from day one. Because of the time invested, we had something to stand on when confronted by infertility. We learned to be honest with each other. We learned to communicate. Face to face. Drawing upon inspiration from the idea of never going to bed angry, we established “face to face” meetings that could be called by either partner, at any time, for any reason. And you had to show up. I remember how easy they used to be. I think I even looked forward to them…the idea being so couply cute. But I also remember the first time he called one and I didn’t want to come. Bored of the ritual? or just feeling the dark defeat of a barren woman? After a certain number of years in a relationship that doesn’t produce desperately wanted children – you wonder… if you’re supposed to be together. I was at that point in year 3 and again in year 12, when another miscarriage and the untimely death of a friends 5 year old son had me questioning everything. I even felt that nagging pull – unravelling the fibers of a lovingly worn but still used sweater in year 14. The year we conceived our “miracle” baby. When do you get rid of or call it quits with such an item? So it’s not always about fertility with us. There were other issues and stories longing to be told and more importantly to be heard…by him…by me. Sometimes you don’t want to listen… sometimes you don’t want the “face to face” moment simply because its too hard.
Those were the challenging points of our union. If you’ve been married any length of time you can testify to trials like these, bearing witness to your own struggles. So no! marriage isn’t easy..it is not about a dress or a party you plan. Marriage is a ministry and it isn’t even about you. Marriage is about the committment you make to show up..at the “face to face”.. Every day. Even when its hard…especially when its hard.
without counseling – would we have made it to this?
We don’t call “face to face” meetings as frequently now. After 17 years of marriage we have grown and changed – learning to read each other so well that words are often unnecessary. We know each others soft, brittle and broken spots. We tread lightly when necessary..carefully tending slight abrasions before they become anything more. Now, miniature versions of those check-ins take place – EVERY DAY – as we walk out our love story – holding fast to each others hearts.
Joining Fawn at www.happywivesclub.com for Marriage Mondays this week.
What are your thoughts on premarital counseling? How have you sustained communication and avoided conflict with your spouse? I can’t wait to hear your stories..share them with me in the comment section below.
I don’t know if I can do this? I don’t want to think about it… this. This is the sad side of adoption and if I think too hard about why we’re both here I’ll never do it. Never move forward. Never receive a gift I know is mine alone to claim. I’ll be afraid to…jump.
another party with LisaJo Baker and friends (www.lisajobaker.com) ….
