Mothers in Their Hearts

 As you might imagine, my crew gets a lot of comments from strangers. It's all nice and well-meaning for sure- I used to be worried about what other people might say in front of my beautiful multi-racial, very close in age kiddos, but to date there has not been one bad thing said. The most popular comment by far is "whew-you've got your hands full!" or "whew- you're busy!" or sometimes just a big "WHEW!" 

I always smile and laugh with them and keep pushing the stroller or grocery buggy. Strangers in Wal-Mart are right- my hands are full, my life is busy, and I don't consider it a complaint to admit that the day-to-day is overall really kind of hard. 

It's a lot of sweeping up cheerios and combing out afros and cleaning out milk-curdled sippy cups I find waaaaaaaay too late under the couch. There have been days where I change six stinky diapers before 10am, find Abby Bette in the bath tub fully clothed shoes and all, discover a cache of bacon I didn't know had been crammed in a drawer, re-fold all the blankets that were pulled out for a dolly slumber party, and cook dinner with two children clinging to my legs crying for rolos. Fun Fact: Joshua's first word was rolo. If I would just give him rolos for every meal there would be so much less conflict in our home. 

I asked Abby Bette to say her school Bible verse to her teacher one day and she goes, "The ears of the wise seek out SAUSAGE!" then laughed maniacally (it's knowledge, if you're wondering, not sausage). Joshua loves to throw things: toys, food, crayons... and this drives Ella, my clean freak, to pure madness.  She helps me empty the dishwasher plate by plate which is so cute and sweet but also makes it take 20 minutes to do something that should only take five. The same with moving clothes from the washer to the dryer. And putting up folded clothes into drawers. And putting stray toys back into the toy basket. And sweeping. And everything. 

I haven't jogged by myself in over three years. If I want to "work out" I make sure everyone has a clean diaper, Abs uses the potty, I pack a sippy cup for each, buckle them all into the triple stroller, then turn on Pandora to VeggieTales. Running while pushing 100 pounds looks ridiculous and about the time you get going, someone (Joshua) has thrown a sippy cup to the ground. Then Abs screams because Ella pulled a clump of her hair out. Then Joshua hollers because Abs is leaning away from Ella the Hair Puller and is now all up in his area. Then of course it's starting to rain when I'm the farthest point from the house, but that's when the real work out starts haha. Once home, my angels behave perfectly as I get them into the house from the stroller. Big smirk. 

One night as I was tucking Abs in, she gently took my face in her sweet little hands, pulled me close, then told me my bweath stinks soooooo bad. I told her it was from all the ice cream I ate behind her back while she was in the bathtub (ha! in her face!). Ella does not and never has napped at all. SO THERE'S THAT.

Joshua loves to push these days and he has no intention of stopping because he's discovered all he has to do when in trouble is to hug and kiss his victim and say "I sawwy" and he know this weak mama thinks that's good enough because he is SO DARN CUTE.  

When asked what her favorite part of our Disney Trip was, Abs always says the hotel pool which makes me cuh-razy. At school, she rolls around in the playground mulch and brings home all of it knit into her beautiful hair. Like sand, mulch is a booger to get out of ethnic hair. 

They are messy and loud and whiny and adorable and always seem to need something..... rolos, apple juice, Diego, Little Einsteins, a snack, the yo-yo she got at school, the harmonica I secretly threw away. 

I worry that I don't spend enough quality time with each one. I worry I don't read enough to each one. I worry that Abby Bette has only eaten waffles for breakfast for a whole month while I was so sick with this recent 1st trimester. I worry that things will only get harder in October when the new baby comes. I worry that they won't have friends for a while when we move to North Carolina this summer. 

The other night during Girl Chat, Abby Bette out of the blue told me in one breath, "I'm brown and Joshua's brown and Mama's white and Daddy's white and Ella's white." I asked her what color she thought the new baby would be. I tried to be silly and say maybe it would be green or purple or polka dotted. She responded, "no, it will be white." I told her it didn't matter because we would love the baby no matter what, just like we love her no matter what.

 I'm not dumb enough to think we would never have these hard conversations, I just didn't think she would pick up on things like that this early. So I worry about that too. I worry about navigating with grace the complexity of adoption and being a multi-racial family. The feelings these sweet little souls will have about their place in their family and in this world. I worry about them feeling different and out of place at church and school. I worry about the first time someone calls them the n-word. I worry about my big strong black baby boy growing into a big strong black man who is unfairly treated by his peers or maybe by police all because of his rolo-colored skin. 

Being a mom to a three year old, a two year old, a one year old, and one more coming in October is hard. And when strangers tell me that in passing, I do just smile and laugh and keep on going. 

But you know what was harder for me than three with one on the way?

Zero. 

No kids was a million times harder.  

Wanting kids but getting nowhere was the great spiritual war of my lifetime (so far). Infertility is exhausting, isolating, scary, and so so sad. It's doing expensive ovulation kits, and not eating dairy because I read an article that says dairy decreases fertility, and a million hours of internet research learning about things I never thought I'd care about like luteal phase, and then discovering there is such thing as African Fertility Yams and lo and behold you can buy them on Amazon, but it's not Prime, so shipping is wonkadoo. But then I  consider the fact that yams shipped from Africa are still cheaper than invitro fertilization so I bring it up to Caleb and he doesn't even blink because $120 for African fertility yams is completely in line with the other crazy things I've brought up recently. 

Once you realize getting pregnant is going to be a thing for you,  every single other female of child-bearing age will get pregnant. This is not hyperbole; it is scientific fact. You will be surrounded by beautiful baby bumps. Your facebook feed will be filled with creative pregnancy announcements and hospital birth photos. 

This is when the isolation seeped in for me. Not only did I feel left out of the Mommy Club, but my friends were in a completely different phase of life than me- one I could not relate to. I wanted the opportunity to be in that phase of life, but no matter what I did or how hard I tried or how little dairy I ate, nothing worked. 

In a conversation with a  friend a few days ago, she used the word behind to describe how she was feeling. She felt like she was behind schedule, so to speak. And that's how I felt too. Everyone else's life was moving on, but I felt stuck. My wheels  were spinning but we were getting nowhere and it was exhausting and lonely. 

The adoption process was no better. It is a part time job. It is incredibly frustrating and tedious and heartbreaking. You feel like a beggar. You pray to be picked and try not to think about what it means for the woman picking you. You wait and wait and wait and wait and it is exhausting and humbling. 

I remember going on runs to clear my aching head and just getting so overwhelmed that I would start uncontrollably crying mid-jog. I would awkwardly run home while boo-hooing. I must have looked crazy. And I kind of was. A sad, lonely, exhausted form of crazy. 

Three kids is hard, but zero was harder. 

Days that my little angels are actually whiny little monsters, I look at the clock reading 7:30am and wonder how I'm going to make it to bedtime at 7:30pm. Then I remind myself that this is what I wanted, this is what I cried thousands of tears over, and this is what I begged God for. 

The summer before we found out we had been matched for a baby (Abby Bette), I was in the depths of my grief. I had quit a fantastic teaching job and told everyone that I was focusing solely on photography, but the truth was I was holding out all hope that we would get a baby soon. One day that summer, I walked to my neighbor's house to casually chat with her and her mom.

Her mom happened to ask if I was getting geared back up for school to start back and she was surprised to hear I had quit teaching. I told her I was going to be a Stay-at-Home Mom, I just didn't have any kids yet and then I started crying (of course). 

She wrapped me in a huge hug and whispered in my ear, "I've had every thought you've thought. I've cried every tear you've cried. I've prayed every prayer you've prayed." It was the  best thing anyone has ever said to me. She understood what it felt like to be a Mother in your heart.

This Mother's Day, to all my friends out there who are Mothers in their Hearts....you who are waiting on that positive pregnancy test, you who are waiting for that phone to ring from the adoption agency..... I hope you claim this day for your own. I hope you use this day as a sabbath from the sadness and loneliness and exhaustion you are facing in your life right now. I hope you don't feel lost in the crowd of women with baby bumps. I hope you decide to go to church on the 14th even though you won't get a rose this year or get a free family photo. 

Caleb asked me what I wanted for Mother's Day this year. I want to give Mothers in their Hearts my "Mother's Day." It's yours. I honor you. We'll be making a donation in your honor to the adoption fund at our church. 

In doing so, I hope you feel loved on a day that you would otherwise feel lonely. For all the Mothers in their Hearts reading this, I pray you and your child find each other quickly. I pray next this time next year is a joyful one for you; no longer a day you dread. Until then, never forget:

I've had every thought you've thought. 

I've cried every tear you've cried. 

I've prayed every prayer you've prayed.