It has been some time since I have written. I have thought about my next blog post for
quite awhile. My weeks following our
return from Africa were unexpectedly complicated. And now, life has slowed down. I want to share, to testify, about the
miracles that God had laid out for us on our trip to meet our son. This is not a story of a woman who faithfully
marched into the unknown and was blessed for her trust in the Lord. This is a
story of a scared little girl trapped in a woman’s body, who struggled with
anxiety the entire trip, and was blessed despite all of this.
The weeks leading up to the trip, things were going very
well. Work was wrapping up nicely. Plans were laid, etc. etc. Excitement! Yearning! We knew M did not have his passport yet, but it
seemed like being in the country was the best way to get it, and it appeared as
if there was an easy solution. We were ready to go get our son!
Then, the day before
our trip, I went to the doctor. For
months, my back and ribs had been hurting.
I have often experienced back pain, so I just assumed it was something
related to my normal back conditions.
When I went to my doctor’s office, I was told it was my
gallbladder. Not only that, but that I
had a gallstone that was attempting to block a duct. My doctor very seriously told me I should not
go on the trip. He asked me to send my husband without me. He stated that I
could get gangrene and would not have access to appropriate medical care in
Africa. I graciously thanked him and we
set up a surgical consult for when I returned.
I explained that I had to go get my son.
I made it to the parking lot before I completely freaked out. Tears, ugly crying. My husband met me at home. We prayed and
decided I still needed to go.
That night, as I tried to sleep, I could not ward of anxiety
and nausea. While planning the trip, we
had decided if paperwork went wrong, I would stay in Africa with M, and my
husband would return to work. All I
could think was: what if I need to stay for months, and my gallbladder ruptures?
What will I do with M? I can’t let him lose another mother. And what about Rosebud? And so on, and so forth. Well as this storm raged inside of me, a
storm raged outside of our home. And
around 2:00 a.m., I decided to look out our front door and watch. Might as well, I wasn’t sleeping. I was surprised to see that our very very
tall elm(?) tree had completely uprooted and fallen into our neighbor’s yard. I ran and woke up my husband, and we went out
to inspect. Miracle Number 1: Nothing was damaged except for our tree and her
small rose bush. She was so kind and we
all stood in the wet lawn in the early hours of the morning, laughing about the
absurdity of a tree falling before we traveled to Africa for almost a month. As we gathered up our
belongings that morning to prepare for our flight, our three sets of parents
went about the business of segmenting a tree and removing it from our
neighbor’s yard. Oh what a blessing!
We made it through the airport without incident. As we sat waiting to board our first flight,
my husband received an email. DO NOT
COME TO LESOTHO. We do not know when the
paperwork will be able to be completed.
If you come now, you may be here indefinitely. (an email from our Lesotho social
worker). My mind went straight to my
gallbladder, which before the previous day, I had never given two seconds of
thought to. Were we headed for disaster?
Would my health ruin everything? How would there ever be resolution? Were we misreading what God was telling
us? Should we not be going now? The next
day’s worth of travel gave me ample amounts of time to panic. I would continue to struggle with my anxiety
for much of the trip. Were we being
unwise? I would wake in the middle of the night, finding it difficult to
breath. I found comfort in The Word. 1 Peter 5:7, Psalm 3 ( I was feeling a little
attacked at the time), Exodus 14:14, Joshua 1:9, and the list goes on.
The first days in Lesotho were a bit nutty. Our social worker spent most of her time in
meetings, trying to find solutions to the passport issue. You see, the country had started using a new
computer system to manage birth certificates and passports. The issue was that the adoption component was
not set to go online until the end of the year. No one seemed to have an answer for how to get M's travel documents.
Miracle 2: We received
permission to work around the system, having M’s passport issued in his given
name, without our surname. Thank you
God! Thank you social worker! Thank you government officials! What a relief. Now all that lied ahead were some
appointments with the U.S. Embassies.
Miracle 3: M was
ready to attach to his family. His first day, you could see the difficulty of
his transition in his body language, lack of facial expression, and his
constant falling asleep. Our little man
was overwhelmed in a way that I cannot describe. As the days passed, his laughter
increased. His desire to be held and
snuggled was vehement. And he became noisy. Described as a quiet little boy at
the orphanage, we watched our son transform into a squawking, babbling,
laughing baby. He grew a preference for
me which was followed by a secondary preference for my husband once
stateside. He is our biggest miracle of
the trip. I cannot express what a
beautiful fit into our family he is! We love our family of four.
Miracle 4: This may not seem like a miracle, but our
orphanage did something beautiful for our son that I do not want to describe in
detail, so that a surprise is not ruined for other families. Because of
Beautiful Gate, my son will be blessed in knowing what children are naturally
curious about. Who cared for me? Where
did I grow up? What is my story? I cannot put into words my gratitude and awe
for a staff that cares so much for each of their children!
Now, back to the story.
We go to our embassy appointment in Lesotho. We think all things are in order. We meet with a new consulate officer, who is
very lovely, but tells us that we may be in for a long wait. She does not know
how to process M’s application since his name on the adoption documents do not
match his passport. She tells us to be
thankful that we have our son, but to be prepared to stay for a few more
weeks.
Queue another Tara freak out. I made it back to the hotel and away from my
children before I wept with my husband (who by the way, stayed calm). What would we do? What if I needed a surgery?
Which of us would stay? How could this be? Other countries do this the same
way! Miracle 5: By the end of the day, we had an email. All had been resolved. They had been able to quickly communicate
with the South African U. S. embassy.
They could process M’s paperwork.
The trip was equal parts me freaking out and me throwing myself in front
of the Lord, who unwavering, provided for every step. The trip unfolded in a
way that had already been orchestrated.
He had provided for our every need.
Despite his crazy child getting frenzied and fearful.
Miracle 6: We
needed another adult. I am not sure if
it counts as a miracle or a blessing, but having my sister with us was
completely necessary. Because of all the messy paperwork stuff, we had to wait
at embassies and meet with people etc.
Leaving Rosebud to have fun with my sister was such a relief. Rosebud
got very sick in Johannesburg, and the physician believed that she may have
appendicitis. Because my sister stayed
with M (we thought we were going to be gone for at most 1 hour), the daylong
event that was blood draws, hospital visits for ultrasounds, urine analysis
(which my 3 year old was not ready for.
Giving a sample was possibly the hardest thing she did. Shy bladder).
Seeing my little girl in a hospital gown in Africa was more than I had
bargained for. I had come to terms with
my possible need for surgery in a foreign country, but had NOT considered my
child needing one. Whatever her illness
was, it did not appear to be her appendix.
We continued to watch her, making her jump on one foot every three hours
as ordered by the doctor. What a crazy
day! Miracle 7: Rosebud got well. No surgery required.
The first 2.5 weeks of the trip, I had no gallbladder symptoms. By the end of our trip and our time in
Johannesburg, my health was worsening, and I was started to feel very
badly. Miracle 8: My gallbladder held on just long enough. About a week
after my return, my gallbladder was removed, an outpatient procedure.
A miracle, I made it home. By the
time I got home, all I could do was lay.
I was sick sick, and so thankful to be in the US. The week after my
surgery, I had a host of helpers come to help me with Rosebud and M. I describe myself as Marie Antoinette that
week, as I summoned my sweet servants to bring me my son J I could not pick him up, due to the
surgery. It was definitely not what I
expected our first weeks home to look like, but how blessed those weeks were!
None of these things were beautiful coincidences. I had prayer warriors supporting us the
entire trip. Long before our journey, I and many many others had
prayed that God would go before us on this trip and that we would have a
blessed trip and blessed meeting of our son.
And that was exactly what we had.
The tense moments and anxiety that I had were just distractions from the
truth. The God that loves me is faithful
and good. He got us to Africa, which
helped the wheels move for M’s paperwork, which got us out of the country with our amazing son, in time for me to have
a minor outpatient surgery. All things
worked together for good.
He told me months ago: I have a son for you. And how he did! And all of the waiting and wondering and worrying,
worth every second. Not only did our
family grow in numbers and love, but I learned so much about the character of
the Lord. I feel so silly in retrospect
for all of the tense moments of worry and hopelessness. Never was there a moment that we were not
provided for. Never a moment for which
we were left alone.
M’s name means mercy, which we received in bulk. But also, M is for Miracle.
(Rosebud and her brother)
