We found ourselves in a crowded room at a DSS 90 minutes from home, against all of my desires. Did I want to parent this child? Yes, I did. Did I also want to run from what felt really big and hard? Yes. I surely did. In fact, I had tried to. I had said “no” but the Lord gave me no peace so I asked to see him. Are there videos, I asked? There were but I should have known that if God told me to ask for them they were in existence.
The videos undid me. “He’s just a kid…” I said, feeling my resolve crumble. My husband offered no objection and I knew that meant we were in this together.
And that is how we found ourselves at that trampoline park in May. Meeting our son.
We were early and decided to duck into the bathroom. Nervous energy. As I pushed the door open, I saw them: super petite and beautiful foster mom and the child who would call me “mom.” I froze. My throat felt tight. Tears stung my eyes. What was to come would be hard, but this instant was easy. “Babe…” I whispered urgently, his hand, too, on the door. His eyes, too, gazing where mine were. “Our kiddo is here!”
I want to tell you that, days before he moves in forever, after months of weekend visits, that we have settled into a routine that is easy but that would be a lie. What I will tell you is this: What is right is rarely easy. We don’t want to choose a life that is easy. We want to choose a life where we step up for kiddos and do what is right.
My stomach is in knots, there is a box of wine in my fridge and my amazon cart is full. But also? My heart is full, too.