Timehop

I’ve wanted to write about my love/hate relationship with Timehop for a while now. If you’re not a “timehopper” (a term I just made up), Timehop is an app that shares your previous statuses and/or pictures from exactly 1 year, 2 years, 3 years… as far back as you’ve been a smart phone user.  Sometimes, I wish it gave a little more detail, or that I had given more detail in my posts.  For instance, six years ago today I was, “thankful for Skip’s heart and willingness to love the things that I love just because I love them.”  What on earth could that have been on a Sunday night at 10:12pm six years ago? Five years and a lifetime ago, I completed the Couch to 5K program and ran a 32 minute 5K.  Four years ago, I was drinking dirty bananas at the Hilton Beach Bar in Myrtle Beach. Three years ago, I was at the Summer Slam/VBS finale after letting my summer class at RCCC out early.  I wrote, “I love being in charge,” so some things really never change!  Two years ago I was in Morehead City getting ready to watch Emily get hitched.  I was super tan and adorably pregnant (with Levi).  And last year, I was packing for the beach while an adorable little 10 month old played in my suitcase. 

Looking back, it always amazes me how much things have changed and for the most part, how much better they’ve gotten.  When Skip was loving the things I was loving six years ago, what he was NOT doing was proposing, the one thing I REALLY, REALLY wanted him to be doing.  A year later, I was running those miles to look better in my wedding dress.  When I was taking pictures of my pregnant belly in the inlet at the bridal luncheon, I had no idea that it would be Amoura and not Levi that I’d be taking to the beach the following year.  Sometimes, Timehop memories are hard.  They smack you in the face with unmet expectations and broken dreams you scroll through quickly so you don’t mess up your makeup.  Other times, like last week when 4 years ago I had rolled Nanny’s hair while she sat in her living room chair, the memories are more sweet than bitter and you open the app at least a dozen times just to relive some moments you’d long forgotten.

Time is a funny thing.  When we lost Levi, lots of well meaning people said “time heals all wounds” and while I think “all” is drastic and “heals” is subjective, for the most part, I agree.  I don’t really think you ever fully heal from the death of a child or any person you really love, actually.  I think there will forever be a sting when people ask how many kiddos we have or when naïve moms announce their pregnancies as if it is impossible that anything could go wrong.  Just this week, a woman on my crunchy mom Face.book page shared that her friend had lost a baby at 35.5 weeks pregnant and asked advice on how to be there for her.  I spent a few hours on memory lane reliving the saddest days of my life, so I could write a thoughtful response and hopefully help this friend meet some needs of this baby loss mom.  I got to respond by the glow of a baby monitor and the sound of Layla talking herself to sleep.  Time, in the last year especially, has been very good to me. 

The last six months alone have been a great illustration to me of time’s healing power and God’s divine purpose in only lighting the very next step on our paths for us.  On January 21^st, after 10 months of raising Amoura, we said goodbye to her.  We hadn’t been away from her more than two nights in a row since she came to stay with us and we had no idea when or if we would see her again.  It was three months before Mom and I saw her again and just under six before Skip got to see her.  I’ve already shared some of the details of their visit, so I’ll try not to repeat myself, but what happened is nothing short of a miracle.  It was the gracious work of The Father providing an incredible gift to his children.

I’d tried and succeeded for nearly a year to not develop a relationship with Amoura’s mother, Karria.  But, if I was ever going to have a relationship with Amoura again, I was going to have to mend fences with her mama.  Hate is a strong word, but I think for a while there I really did hate her. She was downright cruel to us on more than one occasion and had done a few things that while they had not really put Amoura in danger, they surely had not put her best interests first either.  For a while I couldn’t even pray about our relationship because I had absolutely nothing to say regarding her that I could say to the Savior; when I thought about the fact that He loves her just as much as he loves me, I didn’t really want to talk to Him anyway.  And then TIME PASSED and my heart healed a little.  All the while, I know others were praying, interceding on my behalf, and God was hearing their prayers.  I started praying for her mama and for something to change.  I sent a little care package in the mail for Amoura and included small gifts for her mama and her soon-to-be-born baby sister. And finally, nearly two months after Amoura left us and over 6 weeks after I’d had any communication with her, I got a text.  The lines of communication were open once again.  It moved slowly from there.  I longed to ask to visit her, but I knew the timing would have to be right and sensed that is wasn’t.  And then, she blew my mind- she’s been doing that on the regular since we met- and asked if we could come visit right after she had the new baby.  She was asking me if I would come see Amoura.  Mom and I went, and it was wonderful, but I longed to have her back in our home, even for a visit.  So when Skip had business in Atlanta a few weeks ago, I cooked up a plan to have him bring them back with him.  And, that’s exactly what happened.  They spent two nights and Karria and I spent plenty of one on one time and shockingly, it was not awkward at all!

If someone had told me six months ago that I would invite her into my home, cook meals for her and spend time just shooting the breeze with her, I would’ve looked closely for the hole in their head.  If there was an app for a year down the road, I would never have believed in June of last year that our time together would’ve happened like it did.  I never would’ve spent the time praying over our relationship, either.  If I had known then what I know now, I probably would’ve coasted through the past six months in eager anticipation.  Forgiveness and “fence-mending” don’t come easy for me.  It’s not really in my character to get chummy with someone who’s hurt me as deeply as she has.  The new relationship that’s forming is inarguable evidence of God working mightily in me.  I’ve gotta believe that He isn’t done using me in Amoura’s life and perhaps he wants to use me in Karria’s life as well. 

So, today, I am thankful for Timehop. Even though it reminds me of the younger/pre-crowsfeet/smile line/skinnier me, it’s also a great reminder that God has numbered my days and designed a perfect plan for every single one of them.

The Best Day

There are some days that you just know you’ll remember forever. A few of those for me have been the day I met Skip, the day he proposed, the day we got married, and both times I gave birth.  And then, there’s today.  It was a day I thought would never come and was such an awesome reminder that the God I (try to) serve is bigger than my thoughts, my plans and my circumstances.  He loves me and he wants to give me good gifts.  Today was a one of those gifts.

Skip arrived with Amoura, Karria (her mom) and Anyla (her 2 month old) baby sister around 6PM yesterday.  I fixed frozen pizza and salads and we all sat down together to eat dinner.  Amoura definitely remembered our house and made herself at home right away.  I got to snuggle the new baby because Amoura did a fabulous job entertaining Layla.  I swear they both remembered each other.  It’s like they have this bond, which considering I rocked Amoura to sleep every night of Layla’s gestational life makes good sense to me.  Anyway, spending time with Karria was more comfortable and enjoyable than I had expected, and I knew by the time we put the girls to bed that it was going to be an amazing visit.

Today, we hung out at the house (mostly because it was too stinkin’ hot to do much else).  Mom spent the day with us and all three of the girls were very well behaved.  Karria wanted to try bottle-feeding Anyla, so we spent some time bonding over pumping practices and milk storage.   I cooked dinner and mom brought Krispy Kreme for dessert.  I had gotten tickled at a text from Karria the day before they came that called the visit a vacation, but that’s really what it’s felt like.

It has been amazing to watch little-girl Amoura still do the stuff that we taught baby-girl Amoura to do.  She uses quite a bit of sign language we taught her.  She cleans her area at the table after every meal and uses a fork better than some teenage boys I’ve seen.  She’s a great eater and still loves fruits and vegetables. She ate more salad at dinner than anything else, but she still has a sweet tooth.  She was great for her bath and still makes my heart melt in jammies.  She loves getting her nighttime lotion on and was generous with the kisses with both babies.  Overall, she is a great listener and is finally talking!  She says “no” while shaking her head up and down for “yes” a lot of the time, but when she means “no” you can sure tell it.  She still loves to wrestle on the bed and be chased through the house.  I could go on and on, but playng with three little girls is exhausting and I’ve got a long day of driving them back to Anderson ahead of me tomorrow.  I just had to share a bit about our day and some of these precious memories in pictures. 

 Sharing is caring

 Giving her some sugars

 Nana and naked Layla

 Nanny and Anyla

snacking

She didn't care that Layla doesn't have teeth to brush!

Cheese!

When I was a little girl, my mama got my picture made quite often.  There was a photographer near Eden named Tim Tally who was the Blair Philips of the area and several times during my childhood, Mama forked over a ridiculous amount of money for a photo shoot with wardrobe changes and creative props and the like.  We even went back to him once after we moved to Kannapolis because mom liked his work that much.  Mama is still a sucker for pictures and insists on printing most of the pictures we take of Layla with our phones.  She’s got a Groovebook subscription and takes her 100 photos a month very seriously.  I knew when we started having children, we’d want to have their pictures taken regularly by a professional.

When Layla was born, we looked into newborn photography and, holy smokes, was it expensive.  We decided instead of hiring someone, Skip and Luke would take them.  I had grandiose visions of family shots and shots with just the girls and shots with just Layla and me, and boy was I mistaken.  We got enough good ones to craft an awesome Christmas card and that was about it.  Instead of curling up into a cute little newborn knot, Layla stretched out all 5lbs 9oz of her and managed to look like a pale Ethiopian baby in almost every picture.   We decided the next time we wanted pictures, we would hire a professional.

As Layla got close to 6 months old, we started talking about scheduling a photo shoot.  Since Skip is in a similar industry, he has lots of photographer friends and we follow their work on social media and have about a million options when it comes to family pictures.  The last several times we’ve wanted to hire a photographer, our friend, Becca, has been in Montana working for a photographer there.  She was not on this side of the map for maternity pictures, Amoura’s first birthday, or Layla’s newborn shoot.  When I realized she’d be around when Layla turned 6 months old, I knew we’d be hiring her. Becca shot our wedding and we’ve had one of those friendships that feels like slipping on your favorite sweatshirt on the first cold day of Fall.  She’s comfortable to be around and there’s a familiarity with her that makes you wanna smile with your whole body.  She was patient as I switched the date about three times to accommodate Skip’s ever-shifting schedule and didn’t force me to choose a time when lighting was the best and Layla (would have been) the worst. 

The afternoon of the shoot was a hot one and in the middle of one of Skip’s busiest weeks of the year.  Nevertheless, we dressed up in our coordinating-but-not-matching outfits (thanks, Pinterest!) and headed to the park.  You can’t tell from the finished products, but Layla was less than agreeable and kept her hands in her face and her fingers in her mouth for most of the shoot.  She wouldn’t smile unless I was all but cutting flips while blowing raspberries. Still, we got some really great shots and it was hard to narrow them down to 25 images- the package we agreed on with Becca.  We actually made the selection process into one of our “summer date nights” (more on that later). We put the pictures on the TV and picked our favorites while sipping Sonic milkshakes and marveling over the beautiful daughter we created together.  I want to get three or four of the pictures framed in fairly large coordinating frames to replace the collection of small frames on the shelves in our living room.  It looks great in my head, but I’ll have to let you know later if it looks great in real life.  For now, I’ll leave you with some of my favorites of our little family. 

 I can picture her as a little girl here, telling a story and laughing as she goes.

 You think she has any idea how much we love her?

 My hair doesn't always look this good, so I had to share!

Just like her mama, she is a Nanny's girl!

Oh, my heart!

 She's up to something.

I hope we're always embarrassing her with kisses.

You can't really see them, but our whole family is in this picture.  The necklace I'm wearing has all our babies on it.  Layla might be the only one we get to snuggle every day, but there's another baby boy and little girl who have a piece of our hearts.

Comfort Zone

I spent a few hours of my Saturday at the park with Chris and Sarah from my Life Group providing some games at a Foster Parent Appreciation Picnic (say that three times fast!).   Our group had been asked a while back to provide some games at the picnic and until Sarah emailed the group mid-week, I had honestly forgotten all about it. (How long can one claim “baby brain” post-partum?)

I should mention that I was late because I thought the picnic was at a park fairly close to mom’s house.  I was taking Layla with me and Mom was going to come get her a little later for her nap. About half way to that park I started thinking that the name of that park was not the name of the park in the email, but I was already half way there, so I went to the wrong park anyway only to have my suspicions confirmed.  I was on time to the wrong park, but now I had to figure out where I was supposed to be and how to get there.  What did we do without cell phones ALL THOSE YEARS?  I called Chris, realized that the right park was too far away from Mom’s to take Layla, so I headed back, in the direction away from the right park, to drop Layla off with Mom.  In the meantime, my gas light came on and I had to stop for gas on my way to the right park. Unbelievably, I got to the right place only 30 minutes late!  Since I also had to leave 30 minutes early to get Layla from Mom, I officially achieved “worst volunteer ever” status.  I didn’t help with set up or tear down.  I played games, I ate a chicken tender, and I left.  Oh, and I sat by myself and cried in front of total strangers.   

After lunch, this mama got up to speak about a new association that she’s interested in starting and before she sat down, she shared something she’d written about being a Foster mom.  It could’ve been written by any one of those mamas there.  It could’ve been written by me.  She shared about a baby that, for a time, her family thought they would get to keep forever.  She mentioned, honestly, wishing the birth mom would mess up. She confessed that she’d rejoiced when things happened that prolonged the child’s stay in her care. She talked about the nervousness she felt every time she had to interact with the birth mom or got notice of another court date.  She began to cry as she shared how deeply she fell in love with this baby that was not hers but felt like hers in all the ways that matter.  She had to catch her breath before telling about watching the social worker leave her house with the little girl for the last time.  She said she’d sworn that she would not open her heart again for any other child.  She said she promised to protect herself from that kind of pain in the future.  And because she was standing there baring her soul to other foster parents, I knew she had lied.

I sat there by the potato chips and sobbed.  I’ve always known that we were not the first or the last family to fall in love with a baby and not get to keep her forever.  I know more baby loss moms than I wish existed.  But, there’s something different about this type of loss.  Being a baby loss mom is something that is totally, 100 percent out of your control.  Short of making the decision to never conceive, there’s nothing you can do to guard your heart against that type of loss.  But, you can choose not to experience the kind of loss that mama shared about and the kind of loss we experienced when Amoura’s mama took her back from us.  Who in their right mind would go through that kind of pain and then willingly put themselves in the position to potentially have it happen again?

Much to the dismay of my mother, I would.  I watched those families in that park loving on kiddos that look nothing like them, and I ached to do the same.  I watched them treat little boys with dark brown skin and afros askew with the same love as the kiddos with their own blonde hair and dimply grins. I could just picture our family there in a few years with Layla running around with a brother or sister that looks nothing like her. I honestly can’t believe more Christian couples aren’t more involved in Foster care.  Several years ago, long before I had interest or experience with fostering, I heard a statistic that only 1 in every 12 Foster parents are Christians.  Are you kidding me?  James 1:27a says that “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress,” and the most we’re managing is 1 in 12?  I’m not necessarily saying that all Christians must become foster parents, but I do think all Christians should prayerfully consider it. 

So, that’s where we are.  We are prayerfully considering it.  It’s not something to rush into or take lightly or assume that since our experience with Amoura was wonderful (in that she was truly the easiest baby ever and took to us quickly and was a perfect little fit for our family) that all experiences will be the same.  We have our own child to consider and we would like to eventually add to our family the traditional way as well.  But, we think that foster care is in our future.  We know we want to be involved in meeting the needs of children without parents (whether permanently or temporarily) in some form or fashion.  I’m learning about lots of needs and ways to help through the Orphan Ministry at our church.  If you’re reading this and you’re even the slightest bit interested in knowing more, I’d love nothing better than to walk this journey alongside other families who wish to do the same. 

This little video was shared recently with our Orphan Ministry team and I thought it was a great reflection of many of our reactions when we hear about a need. You can apply the message to most any type of need presented in a church or community, this just happens to focus on foster care and spoke volumes to me as I watched. As much as I don't want to have my heart broken again by the loss of another child, I don't want to be too guarded to be used, either.  

As always, thanks for reading, and thanks for joining us in prayer!