Tell Me Lies

I recently told Rocky that I find myself saying often, "So this is what you look like pregnant."

I never thought I would get the opportunity to watch my body grow, stretch, swell with a precious baby inside of it. I could never imagine what that would look like. And now that it's here, well, it's amazing.

It's amazing that technology can show my little one, comfy in my belly, moving around on a blurry black screen. It's amazing that a tiny, sensitive microphone can pick up the heartbeat. It's truly a miracle, in every sense of the word. And I don't mean because it was a surprise; It's a miracle because it just is. I am so overwhelmingly thankful that God has allowed this for us. I know how many women are praying for their own miracle, and I'll continue to pray with and for them.

One of the things I love about being pregnant is the mommy brain phenomenon. A funny thing about this pregnancy is how much it has confirmed what I already knew: I love my boys as if they were my own.

In fact, one of the surprising things about being pregnant for the first time while in the midst of this foster care roller coaster is that I actually feel less attached to the baby than I do to the two little boys I've been raising for a year. I thought for sure I would be so overcome with emotion that I was finally (actually!) pregnant, that it would consume me.

It hasn't.

Not at all.

I am, instead, consumed by everyday life and taking care of my family and praying for my boys and their future.

See, I mentioned before that this pregnancy, coupled with our precarious position in this foster situation, has resurrected in me a fear. A fear so palpable that at times it's hard to breathe.

But this fear isn't for my baby.

This fear is for my boys.

It's the fear that I cannot control their destiny. I do not hold the power to determine their course.

Only God, through a judge, can do that.

And this keeps me awake at night.

The fear that they may not be mine forever.

On Saturday night I met with my close community of girlfriends; a community that has walked with me, prayed for me and over me, served me, encouraged me, and lifted me up when I needed a hand. On Saturday I spoke my fear aloud.

What if God gave us this baby because we're going to lose our boys?

And I lost it.

I could not contain my tears.

This is a real fear. A fear that grips my heart, steals my joy and burdens my days.

It is overwhelming and exhausting.

Believe me, I understood the risks of foster care. I knew, and supported, that the point was to reunify kids with their families.

But after a year...with these kids, and this birth family....They belong with us.

Anything else would be a virtual death sentence for them.

They are already having to overcome so much. They're already the wrong gender and skin color for hope in this city. They're already behind their classmates and peers. They're already struggling with labels and diagnoses. They're already damaged.

But they're also on the mend. They're also told they're valuable and worthy and loved and created by God. They're also part of a family that supports and helps and encourages in week areas and blind spots. They're also overcoming delays and coping mechanisms and communication barriers.

They are part of a community of teachers and friends and family and church that loves on them and shows them the face of Jesus.

They're thriving. They're excelling. They're breathing the soft, calm cadence of children who know where they belong.

It is my prayer, the prayer of my very body and soul, that the judge will see that and will make the right decision.

In four months, we will know.

In the meantime, tell me what may be lies. Tell me they're not going anywhere. Tell me the judge will rule in the best interest of the children. Tell me we are their best opportunity. Tell me that everything will be okay.