Taboo Topics: Adoption – meet Tyron and Caraleigh

Hey Brett

Thanks for the opportunity to share on your “Taboo Topics” series in regards to adoption. This is our story thus far:

Myself and Caraleigh decided to pursue adopting Andrew around mid-Jan 2012. We are currently waiting for the adoption to be finalised. This is a process that requires much patience & prayer, but it’s looking really good so far, even better than normal cases for some ‘God-intervening’ reasons I’m sure. In the meantime we have been allowed to be the legal guardians of Andrew since 9 Feb 2012, and he is indefinitely in our care until all the paperwork gets sorted.

I would start off by saying that this wasn’t part of the plan. We never looked to adopt, but rather it seems that God looked to us to adopt. I do remember a conversation when myself and Caz were dating (maybe 7-8 years ago) where she mentioned being open to adopt (while I silently prayed that we’d never cross that road, ha ha). Recently, in our marriage, Caz resigned to a part-time post as an Occupational Therapist to pursue establishing a home of safety for abused and abandoned children (checkout www.nthandohome.co.za), something I assumed was the ‘manifestation’ of her ‘want to’ adopt or to help the vulnerable – I was wrong.

In the inevitable networking that occurred while Caz pursued establishing the home of safety she linked up with another home of safety nearby that creates an opportunity for community involvement by letting families take children home during the Christmas holidays to relieve the staff for that period. We signed up to do this mainly because Caz loves this type of ministry, and I was open because we were/are very open to starting our own family soon and what better way to get a taste of what it’s like?

We were fortunate enough to have a wonderful experience (we have friends who did the same who didn’t) with little Asemahle (now, or soon to legally be, Andrew), a 14 month old legend. All the joy parents try to describe to you when you have children proved true – even with the sleeplessness. Many jokes in jest occurred within our church community that we would keep him, all thoughtlessly blown off at the time. Taking him back, understandably, was like someone dying, which we expected and even set a day aside to ‘mourn’.

This is where the story turned. Up to this point we did not know Andrew’s story. Did he have parents? When/where was he born? How long was he at the home? Did he have TB/HIV? Etc. With us both struggling to ‘let go’, we desperately needed to know his situation for our own closure. I assured my wife we would try to find out his story, and that if God desired further involvement from us in his life that we pray He would make this clear to us. I said this knowing that no matter what the story was it would never be good – how could it if we had him for Christmas and his family didn’t? But I assumed or hoped that his being at the home of safety was some temporary arrangement.

We eventually found out his story (difficult when they’d lost his file, and the fact that he did not have a birth certificate, yup!). He was born 10-weeks premature and abandoned at the hospital. Authorities had tried to locate his parents on several occasions with no success. He been staying at the home of safety since Feb 2011, and the first time he’d ever left the home was when we hosted him. And finally, the report in the file declared him eligible for adoption.

If ever one there was an open door, this was it. I admit that personally my initial reaction wasn’t “whoo-hoo” but more like Abraham in Genesis 18:16ff when he repeatedly goes back to God with the whole “May the Lord not be angry but let me speak once more” vibe. Wanting to be the supportive husband I suggested we then go inquire about what an adoption process would entail (hoping this might close the door). We began to go to home affair offices, magistrates, social workers, etc, and doors just kept opening – far easier than they should of according to others we’ve spoken to. During this time we we’re granted permission to have Andrew over on weekends, which we did.

We both did a lot of inward searching, praying, and discussing with people we trust. I’m sure by now you’ve picked up my initial hesitations, admittedly I struggled more with this decision than Caz – but I think necessarily so (rather before than after adoption!). It was important that we not only discern God’s clear will in this opportunity, but that we make the decision to adopt together as a couple, otherwise the potential to blame the other partner becomes huge. An article that helped tremendously was a devotion in John Piper’s “Taste and See” titled “A letter to my wife saying yes to adoption” (pages 57-59) – a must read! Most importantly, I felt, was to have a clear passage of Scripture that you really really really know is from God. God eventually led me to one of my favourite passage in Scripture (which was especially cool) to a verse in Acts 17:
“He determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live” (Acts 17:26)
…that verse carried me, and cemented my faith in the Sovereign hand of God in this process.

I would say that aside from the typical fears of becoming an instant parent, all the concerns around ‘cross-cultural’ adoption (especially being a South African with our past), it was the disapproval of some people we love that was the most difficult thing for me to bear. However, you soon discover that this is not uncommon with other folk who have adopted. Thankfully this really was a small minority compared to the vast and overwhelming support we received by many whose opinions we highly value.

It’s all happened so fast, and everything still seems to be racing ahead, but I have more certainty everyday that we’ve made the right decision (even as we grow increasingly tired as new parents, ha ha). I think what I’ve grown to experience more through this in my relationship with God is how he grows our faith, or confidence, in Him through past experiences (just read the story of Abraham and you see this). What helped tremendously as the process of adoption unfolded was when we reflected on other occasions when our faith was being stretched and to remember his faithfulness in to us on past occasions (Psalm 77 is dripping with this truth). There were times when God closed doors for us even when our motives were right (see Prov. 16:2), and though difficult to accept at the time, we’re now grateful (in hindsight) that he did close them. What occurred to me more clearly is that the God who acted like that toward us in the past would continue to do so now in the present and in the future.

I’ll end with two more things.

First, why we named him Andrew. Erwin McManus tells a story about how he got his name (I think it’s some great German pilot from WW2?), which he despised at the time. He was moving to America with his family and needed an English name. Longing for something normal like ‘John’, his grandfather named him Erwin. What occurred to him later is that his grandfather was urging him not to be ordinary. That story inspired the name Andrew long ago before we met Andrew – it was always going to be the name of my first son (inspired by a radical, not ordinary, follower of Christ that I know, which I hope my son will turn out to be). That’s why we gave it to him. We also kept his original name ‘Asemahle’ as his second, because we want to honour any heritage he brings.

Secondly, and lastly, just a recent journal entry I wrote regarding Andrew (more to show how God has changed my hesitant-heart in this journey):

“Andrew himself…growing so fast! Almost walking. Very strong (physically). Great temperament – very happy child (no signs of trauma). Seems to be accepting us as his ‘parents’. Beginning to mouth sounds. Adjusts very well to environments (e.g. camping). Can roar like a lion. Snores! Can give high fives. Has natural rhythm. Enjoys sitting on my shoulders. Sucks his thumbs (may do this forever). Always wakes up happy in the mornings.
It’s hard to imagine our lives without him…and I don’t want to.”

Regards my bro
Tyron & (in spirit) Caraleigh Otto

Taboo Topics: Adoption – meet James Bradford

i met James at an improv group class i sometimes attend in Philadelphia and he was the first one to jump into sharing his adoption story. even though the story is pretty hectic, it seems like James has somehow come through it really positively without having any major adoption issues. Thankx for sharing, James:

Well basically I’ve known I’m adopted my whole life. It was never some shrouded family secret. In fact the entire process was made very transparent to me as a kid. That’s not to say that I knew all of the darker details until much later.

Essentially the story goes as such: my birth mother, who was relatively young at the time she got pregnant (around 20,) was schizophrenic. She was very naive about sex and wound up in a one night stand situation with a man she hardly knew. When she became pregnant she and her parents went back and forth about whether or not she was going to have the baby. They were a Catholic family and they heavily pressured her to not have an abortion.

Ultimately when I was born my birth mother decided she wanted to keep me. Social workers, however, felt that she was not mentally equipped to raise me. Thus at the age of 2 weeks I was put into a foster home.

I was placed with a family of four who were absolutely wonderful. You often seen foster families depicted as abusive or terrifying, but I lucked out. They became my family for 2 and a half years! What I now know from having unlocked my adoption records is that my birth mother refused to relinquish her parental rights until that time. She was given chance after chance to prove she could be responsible.

It’s really a tragic story on her end. She ended up meeting and marrying a man with whom she conceived another child. He was mentally well, and it seems like she would be able to get custody of me…but then he died suddenly from a blood condition. Now she had not one but two children whom she could not take care of.

The other sad thing is that by the time I as 2 1/2 and her rights *were* fully terminated, my foster family – who had been planning to adopt me all along – realized that their son was developing a problem with cocaine. They felt it would be irresponsible to split their focus on another child, so they allowed another family to adopt me. That’s the family that raised me.

People get very confused, but I always say that I look at it as having three families: my birth family (the woman who actually gave birth to me,) my foster family (who raised me to age 2 1/2) and my adoptive family, IE: they with whom I spent my entire life.
For the first 15 years or so of my life I had very intimate ties to my foster family, often staying with them several times a year for holidays and such.

I don’t have a lot of adoption issues. A lot of adopted people want to know why they were given up, but even before I knew the answer to that later in life I never really wanted to know. I unlocked my adoption record when I was 19 because I wanted to know if there were any medical issues in my family history.

What I found out is that along with the birth half-sibling I mentioned above, my birth mother went on to have two more children later in life who were also taken into the foster system. So in total I have three half siblings out there in the world. That’s sometimes hard for me to think about because I have absolutely no idea how to track them down.

It’s fascinating to me that people consider adoption taboo even in 2012. We should be much more focused on solving the problems within the foster care system than on the weird stigma associated with being adopted!

Taboo Topics: Losing a baby: For those who are not the person who has gone through it.

i thought i was finished with this series on people who have lost a child and then i received this email from a friend of mine who lost a baby. i knew this was one more to be shared and i imagine it will impact a lot of people deeply. i want to encourage those of you who read it to refrain from doing what we often do when hearing someone’s story – justifying, rationalising, critiquing, judging, preparing our response and more – just try and read the story and really hear the voice of a parent who has lost a child and is still in that place of it not being okay. just hear what is being courageously shared. [my friend asked to remain anonymous to protect the people in their life that this speaks to/about]:

Don’t tell me how many times it’s happened to you, I don’t want to know the possibilities of this ever happening again. I can’t see my way through now, how can I comprehend ever going through this again?

Don’t expect me to be better after the time you’ve set out as being reasonable, It may take 5 years, it may never be over. Look out for me, make sure I’m not stuck in a season, but don’t expect me to be fine by now

Don’t treat me like I’m over it, When you see one day that I’m the person I used to be before all this happened, then you can treat me like I’m over it.

I will never be the person I used to be before all this happened

Don’t tell me 4 weeks after my baby has died that you’re pregnant and expect me to be happy for you. I hate you, I hate the God who has allowed you to be happy and not me, I hate the people congratulating you. I am working through asking God for forgiveness for hating. How do you ask a God you don’t trust anymore for forgiveness? I am working through feeling guilty for no longer trusting a God I have always known. How does a God you’ve always known to be one thing suddenly change? I’m working through not seeing God as I’ve always known Him to be. Do you see what your “announcement” has set off in me?

Don’t judge me when you don’t see me singing in Church, I’m reading every song in a different light and with a different perspective, I’m evaluating whether or not I can honestly sing any of those words and mean them even a tiny bit anymore. I’m feeling judged for sitting in church week after week without praising, I don’t want to be here, I want to be in bed feeling sorry for myself, but I’m not…I’m here, I’m with you, it’s a massive step…recognize that

Don’t tell me it’s all going to be ok, you don’t know that. You told me it was all going to be ok when I went for my scan, we know what happened after that…Tell me you love me and you’re there for me, tell me you’ll walk this road with me no matter how long it is, tell me you won’t judge me, tell me you’ll try

Don’t tell me you understand. Really? Your puppies got run over, you understand “exactly what I’m going through”? You will never understand. Maybe one day (hopefully never though) you’ll have some kind of idea, but you’ll never understand. I don’t pretend to understand what someone else in my same situation is going through. That’s because they are unique, their situation will be perceived from the point where their personalities and outside influences affect them. I’ll never 100% understand what they are going through. You do not have the capability of understanding so telling me “you understand” only minimizes my experience of this to the size of your ability to comprehend it. I don’t blame you for not understanding though, I envy you.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry for my “unfortunate situation”. My baby died and was torn from inside me, you term that “unfortunate”?

Don’t offer empty words of consolation, hug me, I’ll know exactly what you’re saying.

Don’t make every “coffee date” a time for you to find out how I’m doing, I want to be able to go for coffee with you without the anxiety of what questions you’re going to ask me, and how those questions will affect me on this specific day. Let the conversations happen naturally, but listen…because somewhere in that conversation I will tell you how I’m doing…

Don’t pretend awkwardly that you haven’t heard me mention something about my baby or how I’m feeling today. Follow up, listen and talk with me, I’m feeling strong enough to open up and talk, don’t ignore me, that’ll only make me feel as if you think I shouldn’t be talking about it.

Don’t let me eat alone in the days right after everything. I feel guilty for even feeling the need to eat at a time like this. Bring food, it’ll make me realize that you think I should be eating even at a time like this and then I can feel just a little less guilty. Don’t ask me what I eat or don’t eat, I feel guilty for being hungry remember? It’d probably make me feel a little less guilty by eating food I completely dislike so I really don’t mind

Don’t make every meeting a somber event, make space for me to have normal times, you know, like when we lived life innocently and we’d go to each other’s houses and play games or watch a comedy together, or we’d go have breakfast in the park. I want ‘normal’, I crave ‘normal’, I can’t get ‘normal’ on my own, I need you to make it for me

Don’t look at my tummy in the months after, to see if I might be pregnant. I’m aware of not being pregnant every day, so keep your eyes off my tummy. Believe me, you’ll know when I’m pregnant again, I’ll be shouting it from the rooftops. So please, don’t make me insecure wondering when someone’s going to ask me about my tummy just because it’s a bit bigger…maybe from being pregnant before, maybe from a bit of extra weight that sadness has added on

Don’t tell me it was probably for the better. Would you ever go to the mother of a disabled child and tell her it would’ve been for the better if her child had not lived? That’s what you’re saying when you tell me that. I would’ve loved a disabled child, or a sick child, etc inspite of all that. That was my baby, I don’t care what was wrong with him/her

Don’t forget the important dates, I’m remembering them, I’ll never forget. The date we found out we were pregnant, the date we heard our baby’s heart beat, the date the doctor told us our baby was dead, our baby’s due date, what would’ve been our baby’s 1st birthday, it goes on, it forever will. When I’m still raw, remember the dates

Don’t tell me I have a choice as to how I’m going to let things affect me. Do you think I would ever choose to have things affect me like they do sometimes? I don’t have a choice in how things are going to affect me, from one day to the next I have no clue how even a simple question will affect me. You asked me yesterday How I am, I said fine, You asked me today…I burst out crying. You asked me this morning how my day has been, I said great, you asked me this evening…I got angry at you. You asked me at 13:00 what I’m up to later, I said I was going out, you asked me at 15:00…I was curled up comatose on my bed. You asked me at 20:00 how I was, I said good, you asked me at 20:05…I was cursing God. I don’t know from one minute to the next how things are going to go, my life is in turmoil.

Don’t expect me to be your support. I don’t want to know whether or not you’re coping, I don’t have the emotional capability to handle your feelings. You have your own support system, go to it so you can be mine.

Don’t get upset if I react negatively to something you say to me. I’m sorry for hurting you, but right now you’re the stronger one, can you carry that for me? Please?

Don’t tell me (as you roll your eyes at something your child is doing) “one day you’ll understand”. I understand now. I am a mother. I became a mother and my husband became a father on the day our baby was conceived. I may not have a living baby to prove it to you, but he/she will forever be alive in our hearts. We are parents, we just ‘understand’ a different area of parenting than what you do.

Don’t think that when I’m laughing I am not grieving anymore. I feel guilty, I feel as if I am betraying my baby’s memory.

Don’t forget that I’m still grieving. I know it’s hard for you to be aware of things you say to me, but please, is it such a burden to carry in light of everything? Will you carry that for me?

Don’t think my pain is healed. A part of me will forever be broken, but I will learn to live with that…in time

Don’t get annoyed or hurt when I don’t rejoice with you when you tell me you’re pregnant, I haven’t slammed the door in your face. I want to, but I haven’t because I care for you and want to protect you from me so that you can have the space to rejoice for you. I can’t right now, because I’m using all my energy to fight against hating and envying you, but I’m quiet, and that is my way of saying I care enough to be silent.

Don’t get upset when I don’t talk or open up to you. My words are coming from a place of pain, anguish and turmoil. I love you, that is why I’m silent. My words will only hurt you, so I keep them inside.

I used the analogy once when someone asked me how I was, I said it was like that earthquake that hit Japan last year. One week Japan was thriving, nothing on the horizon that was going to turn their world upside down. The next week everything had changed, all there was for as far as you could see was rubble. Lives that had crumbled into little bits that were no longer recognizable, nothing visible that was still intact. Nothing remotely resembling the life they had, the dreams they held for their futures.

Hopelessness, deep, deep sorrow, utter disbelief. The week before they couldn’t imagine anything like this, they didn’t have the ability to even comprehend the devastation lying ahead for them. In the first few days, no one knew where to even start. Where do you start to begin putting your life together again? How do you begin to fix years and years of life that has been broken down to nothing in just a matter of minutes?

Slowly you pick up a brick and move it out of the way. After a while the bricks become too heavy because your arms are tired, so you start moving pieces of broken brick instead. You rest a while. You’re tired, but your life is in limbo at the moment because you have no security, you have no confidence, you have no dreams for the future, you have no hope. You keep your head down because to look at the ruins of your home, your life, your dreams, as a whole picture is too painful, you can’t bear it. So you keep plodding on with your head down. Eventually you reach the base of where your house once stood. There’s a lot more rubble here because of the size of what once stood there, but you’ve made progress. What lies ahead is a much bigger task than what you’ve gone through already but you have nothing else to do, no other reason to do anything. So you keep going. You think of giving up sometimes because of the strain of it all, but you don’t. You don’t know what drives you, you don’t know what pushes you to keep going but you do. Maybe it’s the fleeting thought that one day you will have a house again, if you just clear this mess, you can build a life, build hopes and dreams and a future. The size of the task is daunting, but you keep going.

After days or weeks, or months, you lift another brick, but this time you see something underneath it. It’s dusty and dirty, and you can’t see it clearly, but you know it’s something you recognize and so you reach for it. It’s a vase, a simple thing that used to hold such beauty. It’s not damaged. Maybe a little dusty, but it’s still intact. You can’t believe it. How did anything survive? You cling to it as if it is the most precious thing in the world. You carry on clearing up. More things slowly start to appear while you’re clearing away the rubble. They begin to form a pile and the pile grows and slowly… keeps growing. Every now and then you go and sit next your pile, and admire the things that are still intact, the good memories start to fill you and give you strength. You get enough strength to go back and clear a bigger section. The times between clearing and resting grow bigger. What once used to fill your days is still there, and always will be, but you have hope now, it may be only a little, but you see how far you’ve come, you could never have imagined getting to this point but somehow you have, you’re a survivor, you ARE strong enough. The road ahead is long. Your house will never look the way it did before, but you start to recognize it as home, you start to see the possibilities in your future. But you never forget, to forget would mean to nullify everything you’ve been through and besides, how could you forget something that impacted your life so much, no, you never forget, but you begin to learn how to live with the memories…

Taboo Topics: Losing a baby – some last stories and links.

when i started writing this blog series on people who have had miscarriages/lost babies, i was overwhelmed with the response i got, because in my life experience i had never come across many stories of this happening but i had heard that it happens a lot more than we think. And so i really am truly grateful for everyone who shared personally and for those who linked me to friends of theirs. With people being so brave i didn’t want to leave anyone out and so i have compiled a few more links to stories and websites that other people shared with me. Every story is different and unique and it has been a huge encouragement [and a very painful one, especially for those people i know personally] that you all have invited me [and so many other people] to share in your stories of loss and hope, love and devastation and healing. i KNOW it has made a difference for some people who had previously been suffering quietly by themselves and feeling alone in this.

i want to end off with links to five more stories, most of who are good friends of mine and thank each of you for the sharing of your story and in some cases the resources you have set up to help other people with theirs. may each of us continue to experience the God who is able to work good out of the most tragic circumstances and give us hope and a future.

[David and Sarah Seabrook] http://53hours.wordpress.com/about/

[Lindsay Bresler] Cathy was at school with me (a year or 2 younger) – basically had kidney problems when pregnant and they lost the baby AND will never be able to fall pregnant again due to health risks… she has written a lot of stuff relating to it and you can see some of it on this link…
http://www.rememberingforgood.com

[Margaret Ann and Adam Schaaf] My husband and I have been through the loss of our child(ren) more than once. It is something that I have written about in my journals. You can read my poem, “The Day Grace Died” at http://mypoetry.scriptmania.com/custom.html as it was written in response to losing our child.

[Rory and Debbi Windell] Hi Brett, not sure if you know but Debbi and I lost our son, Nathan Ross Windell due to a ruptured uterus and have now created a Foundation in his name called the Live in Hope Foundation and you can see our story and get some help and assistance for parents who have lost a loved one especially a child! go to www.liveinhope.co.za as well as our Facebook page: Live in Hope Foundation

[Adrian and Benita Wright] Hey Brett: Here is a note I posted on our story a while back: https://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=10150540969965001

Taboo Topics: Losing a baby – meet Sandra and Shane [my parents-in-law]

one imagines that once you are pregnant all goes well and a perfect offspring is born. that’s how i felt cos i’d had an easy 1st pregnancy and my daughter(Ro-anne) was perfect.

so when i was pregnant again i was soo shocked when i started bleeding, the doc told me to go to bed but nothing helped i lost the baby. i was devastated especially as i did not have a DnC but flushed my baby down the toilet. we are talking 30 yrs ago. also these things were not spoken about then and you had to muddle through by yourself.

the same story happened with the next baby.

praise God baby number 4 (Bronwyn)was full term and healthy.

again two more miscarriages. the hours of silent weeping in the middle of the night, blaming myself for doing something wrong. in the 3rd miscarriage i went to the doc and was lying on the examination bed, i was alone in the room and there was only one door which i could see. all of a sudden i felt a presence in the room, i calmed down and suddenly i felt that it didn’t matter why i lost the babies, God knew the full story and He is sovereign. the doc came and gave an ultra sound – i saw the baby in the middle of the womb but not attached, but this time i was comforted although i still cried. it was a peace that passes understanding.

another beautiful daughter arrived (Valerie)

after that i had 2 more miscarriages. the last 1 the baby had reached 4 months and we could all feel it moving and then it died, i had to have a DnC. i had a battle with myself cos i did not feel i had the emotional ability to face another miscarriage, but felt i could not leave my 3 daughters with such a negative view of pregnancies so i tried again. the baby went full term and was another beautiful daughter (Shana meaning Blessing) I felt that was an appropriate name considering the miscarriages.

how did i stay sane through all this? by the grace off God: he said my strength is sufficient for you. i go on without a shadow of doubt that i will see 6 children in heaven that i have not had the privilege of holding here. the 4 daughters i have have been an untold blessing to me. ‘all things work to the good of those who are called according to His purpose’. sandra.

when i have walked this road with people and they have had a stillbirth i have encouraged them to take a photo of the baby and hand and feet prints. they have all said it has helped them.

To God be the Glory Great things He Hath done.

[Sandra and Shane Duffield]

Taboo Topics: Losing a baby – meet Grant and Mauri

Itʼs July, Mauri phones to tell me the news, weʼre pregnant again. Whoohoo! We had been trying and Mauri had had a dream in which a date for a birth of a baby was given. So the news was, well, wow perhaps God had spoken to us about the actual birthday! We did a calculation and due date was in the ʻdate proximityʼ. Sure it was very early days, but God had spoken hadnʼt he, and so we started dreaming: is it a boy or a girl? What will they look like, be like? And how will they play with Kristen?

A couple of weeks later Mauri comes into the lounge with an anxious, slightly panicked look on her face, she is spotting and the bleeding was getting heavier. The next day we are in our doctorʼs surgery and he confirms our fears. A miscarriage.

Itʼs only a miscarriage, just a miscarriage, we carry on with life, right? Hey in the old days no one would have even known, and the bleed put down as a late period. Thatʼs what some have said. I begin thinking along those lines too: itʼs not like weʼve lost a baby. Or have we? Almost as if right there and then i have the wrestle of our time: when does life begin? Iʼm struggling to know what i should be feeling in the midst of Mauriʼs emotions, strengthened by hormonal changes in her body. I write to a mentor of mine and his wisdom to us is that we need to name the baby and say goodbye. That shouldnʼt be too difficult? Mauriʼs instinct was that it was a girl. We had a name we were going to use if we had another girl, and so we named her Bethany, had to name her Bethany because to choose any other name would be to discount the life that had been there. It was at that point that Mauri and I wept together. I was so surprised by how pained i felt, how disappointed I was.
It was so much harder to say goodbye that i had imagined.

Itʼs so easy for me to delegitimize my feelings because otherʼs have had it much harder. Which is true. But thatʼs not right either. When life is formed it is only right for us to expect that, that ultimately life will be birthed. When it doesnʼt there is the sense of something stolen, of an incompletion. I sometimes still cry when i have to think about or share that experience (like now) and know the deeper pain of many others who have lost their babies.

Mauri fell pregnant, quite unexpectedly, not long after that and our little boy, Jesse is about to turn 2. I canʼt imagine life without him but sometimes wonder how Bethany would have fitted into our family.

Prayer-liners [iv]

more standing out passages and ideas from ‘Prayer: Does it make any difference?’ by Philip Yancey:

‘David Ford, a professor at Cambridge, asked a Catholic priest the most common problem he encountered in twenty years of hearing confession. With no hesitation the priest replied, ‘God.’ Very few of the parishioners he meets in confession behave as if God is a God of love, forgiveness, gentleness and compassion. They see God as someone to cower before, not as someone like Jesus, worthy of our trust. Ford comments, “This is perhaps the hardest truth of any to grasp. Do we wake up every morning amazed that we are loved by God? Do we allow our day to be shaped by God’s desire to relate to us?”

Reading Ford’s questions, I realise that my image of God, more than anything else, determines my degree of honesty in prayer. Do I trust God with my naked self? Foolishly, I hide myself in fear that God will be displeased, though in fact the hiding may be what displeases God most. From my side, the wall seems like self-protection; from God’s side it looks like lack of trust.’ [pg 34]

for the next thoughts on prayer, click here…

Prayer-liners [iii]

some more quotes from ‘Prayer: Does it make any difference?’ by Philip Yancey, which i am really enjoying at the moment:

‘In Jesus’ day tax collectors, prostitutes and unclean persons reached out their hands to receive God’s grace while religious professionals closed theirs into tight fists. In receiving a free gift, having open hands is the only requirement.’ [pg. 23]

‘Most parents feel a pang when the child outgrows dependence, even while knowing the growth to be healthy and normal. With God, the rules change. I never outgrow dependence, and to the extent I think I do, I delude myself. Asking for help lies at the root of prayer: the Lord’s Prayer itself consists of a string of such requests. Prayer is a declaration of dependence upon God.

A character in one of Henry Adam’s novels cries out in frustration, “Why must the church always appeal to my weakness and never to my strength!” I can think of several reasons. In a world that glorifies success, an admission of weakness disarms pride at the same time that it prepares us to receive grace. Meanwhile, the very weakness that drives us to pray becomes an invitation for God to respond with compassion and power.’ [pg. 27]

‘We must lay before Him what is in us, not what ought to be in us,’ wrote C.S.Lewis. To put it another way, we must trust God with what God already knows.’ [pg. 32]

for more thoughts from Philip Yancey on prayer, click here.

Prayer-liners [i]

i have just started reading ‘Prayer: Does it make any difference?’ by Philip Yancey which was given to me by two great friends Emiel and Philippa a while back and which i just started reading at the right time… still early days but REALLY enjoying it and highly recommend it [and it is not 'the ten steps to really great prayer' at all]

and while you should read the book, until you do, i thort i’d share some lines or thoughts that really stood out, from time to time as i continue to read it…

‘Most of my struggles in the Christian life circle around the same two themes: why God doesn’t act the way we want God to, and why I don’t act the way God wants me to. Prayer is the precise point where those themes converge.’ [pg. 9]

‘Prayer helps correct myopia, calling to mind a perspective I daily forget. I keep reversing roles, thinking of ways in which God should serve me, rather than vice versa. As God fiercely reminded Job, the Lord of the universe has many things to manage, and in the midst of my self-pity I would do well to contemplate for a moment God’s own point of view.’ [pg. 14]

for more thoughts on prayer, click here.

Taboo Topics: Losing a baby – meet Nicole of Graeme and Nicole

a little while ago [well, a month it seems] i started a series called Taboo Topics where i wanted to look at some serious issues in life that deeply affect people but that rarely get spoken about. The first one, losing a baby, was something that had been on my heart for a long, long time because of knowing some friends who had been through it and having a glimpse of how devastating it must be, especially if you are carrying it along and feeling like you are the only one… an old friend of mine, Graeme, boldly stepped forward and shared their story from his perspective and a lot of people read it and were encouraged and it is now my privilege to share the same story, but from his wife Nicole’s perspective. Thank you, Nicole, for the strength you show in sharing this with us:

As you can see, it’s taken me a whole month to work up the courage to read this blog…. When Graeme told me that Brett had asked if he could post our story, I was not in a good head space, so told Graeme to go ahead, but that I couldn’t do it. Now, with Zoe’s 5th anniversary behind me, I feel I’m in a better space now, so I thought I’d head on over here and read all the stories he’s posted so far. Each of them broke my heart…. I know the pain hidden under the words each of them uses.

As with all couples, even having experienced the same event, my journey has been different to Graeme’s. As a mother, you connect with your child physically and emotionally long before it’s born. When I heard the news initially, that the doc couldn’t find a heartbeat, I was so sure it was just faulty equipment. I went into denial immediately. But after half an hour, the reality finally hit me. I was so devastated, and crying so hard, I nearly vomited on the floor. When the doc told me that it would be better for me physically, as well as emotionally, to go through natural labour (Zoe was 37 weeks), I wanted to hit her. I thought for sure she was joking. Yet, in retrospect, she was absolutely right.

We were given a private labour ward, with a dedicated mid-wife (so no extraneous staff wandering in and out, or noise from other labour wards to bother us), and at the end, our minister and his wife were allowed to join us, so we could wash Zoe, dress her, and hold a short ceremony for her immediately. I still remember the sound her body made as it slipped from me…. a dull thud followed by silence….

We didn’t find out until later that the name Zoe means life.

Something that gave me (and continues to give me) tremendous comfort was a vision that one of my friends had in which she saw Jesus take Zoe into heaven cuddled in his arms. To know that she’s loved, and cared for, and is in the best possible place…that is a great source of comfort to me.

I don’t believe that God made this happen. I don’t believe that God even allowed this to happen. Something as evil as killing an innocent, unborn child on the cusp of life could only come from the pit of hell itself. For the longest time though, I blamed God for failing to take action, for failing to save Zoe’s life.

Now though, I have Nathan (his name means ‘Gift of God’). There’s no way he will ever replace Zoe – not in a million years. But I know that if she had not died, he would not have been born. Right from the get-go, when we dedicated him, we asked that God would use him to heal and bless, and to bring joy into the lives of those he touches. God has honoured our prayer, and Nathan has already brought such healing and joy into ours.

I still don’t know ‘why’ Zoe died. I don’t know why we were targeted in this way. I don’t for one minute believe that Zoe’s death was part of God’s plan. Yet, I know that God has redeemed what Satan intended for evil. For both Graeme and I, our faith has been tested in the fire. The dross has been (and is being) burned away. Although we’ve still got a-ways to walk, I know that now our faith is real in a way that it never was before. We’ve also been able to comfort others with the comfort we have received – through Born Sleeping (our support group). Plus there is the blessing of the child who would not have been – Nathan – if not for his sister’s death.

As Graeme said, the grief is never far from the surface, but that doesn’t mean our lives are joyless. We have simply learnt how to tolerate indescribable pain, to allow it to wash over and through us, until we can breathe again. We have learnt how to live and love and laugh despite our pain. Having said that, please don’t think I’ve got grief taped, or that I have all the answers. If I were to go through this again, as Sandi & Mike, and Debbie & Bruce, have had to do I think I’d probably fall apart just as much, just as quickly, and take just as long to be put back together.

Losing a child…. it really is one of the hardest things any parent can go through, and unless you’ve been through it yourself, with the greatest respect, I don’t think you have a clue what it’s like…. which is probably why so many people don’t like to talk about it: everyone else says such banal things, insensitive things, the platitudes that are like a dagger in your heart and a slap through the face. Which is why Brett’s blog is so important. We need spaces to talk openly about our pain, and about how the pain makes us re-evaluate our lives, our values, our beliefs, our faith, our hopes, our dreams, our plans. And others need to hear it, to learn how to deal with us, and to help us grapple with issues of faith.

So thanks, Brett, for having the courage to open the lid on on this can. I just hope the worms turn into butterflies sooner rather than later.

Nicole [Nicole Masureik and Graeme Broster]

Born Sleeping Website – http://bornsleeping.wordpress.com/
Born Sleeping Facebook Page – http://www.facebook.com/pages/Born-Sleeping/150344014978601

if you would like to read the other stories that were shared, click here.