This Life That We Share

The sun, how it shined! We couldn’t have planned it that way

As we spoke our vows on that perfect June day.

I stood there with him, we stood there, we two.

And our friends and family heard us say, “I do.”

What’s next, we wondered, in this new life we shared.

Whatever it was, we knew we’d prepared.

We wanted to have children, to hear little footsteps down the hall,

But . . . none were forthcoming, no, none at all.

We set up the doctors appointments and tests,

Then went home to pray, just hoping for the best.

We heard the bad news in doc’s office where we sit,

And we did not like it, not one little bit.

And then something clicked, a thought that just sticked!

We searched . . . then we found him on our continuing journey,

The very best, most experienced adoption attorney.

We told him our story, with a hopeful look,

And he said to us, “Why don’t you put together a book?”

“Share your history and your pictures and some comments or two,

And I will show it to birthmothers when they come through.”

My husband and I left his office that day,

We knew we had to think and consider and pray.

Our book was soon finished, we were quite proud of it,

But all we could do then was to sit, sit, sit sit.

And we did not like it, not one little bit.

Nothing much happened, the months slowly passed,

Then suddenly everything happened so fast!

A birthmother had chosen us, the child was here!

We scrambled to get all the right babyhood gear.

We needed diapers and jammies and bottles and bibs,

A car seat, a stroller, some sheets for the crib.

Baby books and toys, oh, but that was not all,

Washcloths and blankets, onesies, a ball.

We walked into the hospital and from that very first peek

Our hearts were smitten with that perfect round cheek.

Her head full of hair made us giggle and “aww”

She was perfect in every way, as far as we saw.

Oh, how we loved her, how our lives felt complete!

Even the midnight feedings seemed sweet.

Oh, how we loved her, from her nose to her feet!

For two perfect months she was ours, she was home,

Until unexpectedly rang that darn telephone.

“I have some bad news,” we heard him say, trying to be kind,

“The birthmother has suddenly changed her mind.”

I wanted to scream, to run away, to attack,

But in my heart I knew that we needed to give her back.

The most terrible moment of my life, by far,

after driving in our silent car,

Was hearing the office door squeak ajar.

She reached out her arms as calm as could be,

And took my sweet baby away from me.

And worse even still, was hearing that teenager proclaim,

“You and I, we’re just the same.”

“What?!” I thought, angrily, “We’re married and stable, you’re not!

You knew that two months ago; have you forgot?”

We drove home in shock, no sounds from the back seat.

Walking through our front door seemed a monumental feat.

The crib was now empty, but the powder smell stayed,

I couldn’t bring myself to wash the sheets where she’d laid.

The grief, the anger, the loss consumed me, how would my heart ever mend?

The tears flowed on and on and on, I couldn’t turn make them end!

What’s next, we wondered, in this life we shared,

Whatever it was, we would never be prepared!

The wounds did not heal with time (that saying’s not true),

But eventually we figured out what God wanted us to do.

We already had lots of bottles and bibs,

A car seat, a stroller, some sheets for the crib.

Baby books and toys, oh, but that was not all,

Washcloths and blankets, onesies, a ball.

I had already experienced being a mother.

Now the question remained: could I love another?

Indeed, my heart has expanded to love many more,

In fact, 47 children have now come through our door!

Life can get crazy at times, providing foster care,

But it’s the life God has blessed us with, one we want to share.

People will see us, they look at us two,

And often they ask us, “Why do you do what you do?”

And we do not always know what to say,

Should we tell them about that terrible day?

Should we tell them about it?

Now what should we do?

Well . .

What would you say

If that happened to you?