M is for Miracle

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)