Our Family's "Sanctity of Life" Journey

Today is Sanctity of Life Sunday.  This is a day when believers join together and celebrate the fact that our God is the giver of life, a day when we pray for mothers around the world faced with impossible choices for the children they are carrying, a day when we mourn the 40 million children lost to abortion globally each year.  40 million.*

Three years ago, Billy and I had the privilege of pre-viewing the movie, October Baby, before its official release.  I was so moved by the movie, I blogged about it- Every Life is Beautiful,- I advertised it by wearing the free t-shirt we’d been given, and I told anyone who would listen about how they simply had to go see it.  I even went to see it again at the theater after it was released and then bought it on blu-Ray.  I was seriously passionate about this film.  The movie tells the story of a fictional young lady who discovers as a young adult that she is the survivor of an abortion.  It tells of her physical and emotional trauma.  It tells the story of her redemption in a wonderful adoptive family.  It paints a beautiful picture of mercy and forgiveness as she seeks her biological mother.  It is a fictional tale, but one that is played out in reality quite more often than most are aware.

This movie became all too real to us a year after we viewed it for the first time.  You see, our Addie Mihret was the survivor of an abortion.

I have previously not shared this with many folks for fear of sensationalizing her story and invoking unmerciful judgment from the clueless masses upon her mother.  However, as I consider Sanctity of Life Sunday, I feel the Lord is prompting me to share how abortion has affected our family.

We learned after meeting Addie’s biological mother, that she had been forced by Addie’s biological father to have an abortion.  He paid for it, she went, the doctor did the procedure.  It didn’t work.

The doctor said Addie’s bones were just too strong.  I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Lord was protecting her.  Why He allows other children to be taken home to him all too soon, I cannot answer, but He chose for Addie to live.  Her life is an absolute miracle.  From what I know about abortion survivors, there is potential for her to suffer physically and emotionally for the rest of her life, but I am so thankful that she has a chance at that life, as difficult as it may turn out to be.

I am thankful that though I will probably never see her again, I had the opportunity to know her and love her.  I am so thankful that her life was not snuffed out before she had the chance at impacting our family and the hundreds of folks who read my blog.  I am so glad that I know her laugh and her smile.  I am also abundantly thankful that Ellie Claire’s mother chose to give her life.  I am thankful that she is snug as a bug in her crib upstairs because she was given the chance to live.

I am so incredibly heart-broken at the millions of babies in our nation and around the world that will never take a breath outside their mothers’ “safe” wombs.  What fathers, leaders, writers, musicians, doctors, scientists, preachers, world-changers are missing from our earth because they were never given a chance at life?  It literally makes my stomach twist in knots.

There was a point in time that my horror at the abortions daily taking place in our country made me judgmental, angry, and indignant towards every woman who made that choice.  Let me be clear before I go on, abortion is a sin, and regardless of my feelings about it or those who participate in such, it’s wrong.  But before I go slamming my Bible in front of them, yelling at them and condemning them, I must first offer mercy.  After all, that is what I have been offered by our Father.  I need His mercy so much and so frequently, I am amazed that He chooses to call me His child.  When I made Christ my Lord and Savior, and in His grace and mercy, He imparted His righteousness upon me, He knew I was going to keep giving Him a gazillion opportunities to exercise His mercy weekly… okay, daily... and He STILL saved me.  

I have shared that Addie’s Ethiopian name is “Mihret,” which in fact means, mercy.  I see how the Lord had mercy on her life when he protected her from the poison of abortion.  I also see how her life calls me, as a believer, to offer mercy.  Addie’s story opened my eyes to a world that I had not had the opportunity to see before.  This is a world where there are mothers who are well aware that their unborn babies are in fact living, breathing children.  This is a world where women love their precious children.  This is a world where women are desperate.  They are desperate to not see their children live in the poverty and despair that surround their daily lives.  They are desperate to not watch their children waste away to nothing as they starve.  They are desperate not to watch their children beg on the streets. They are keenly aware that if they give birth to their child in their “unwed” state, their families will disown them and put them out on the streets.  They will have to quit school and have no options for providing for their children.  Many of these women, like Addie’s mother, are completely ignorant to the option of adoption, and most of these women have not yet been reached by ministries striving to offer them and their children a chance for a dignified, happy life.  Ethiopia is full of these precious women, but the United States is, too. 

When we hear about these women, is mercy and compassion our first response, or is judgment and condemnation?  And are we going to stand and shake our fists at the women all around the world who make the choice to abort their babies, and then sit by and watch apathetically as others choose life for their children, yet offer them no help?  No love?  No place to belong?  If we take a stand against abortion, we are right and just.  If we take a stand against women who are desperate, we are merciless and lacking in the love of our Father.  We must stand against abortion without standing against mothers.  We must stand for adoption and foster care and aid programs offering help to mothers who choose to raise their children.  We must in fact, do more than stand.  We must act.  We must step-up for the foster children in the U.S.  We must adopt children domestically and internationally.  We must support organizations like A Woman's Choice here in Louisville and Unadopted , which works stateside and globally.  We must offer assistance to families struggling to make ends meet.  We must support ministries like Living Hope Ethiopia, which runs the one and only maternity home in the country.   We must buy presents and gifts from non-profit "businesses" like Back to Africa and
Freeset.

Abortion is heart-breaking for both the children lost and the mothers left behind.  Let’s call it what it is- atrocious.  But let’s recognize that being appalled at abortion isn’t enough.   We have to do something, and I really, really don’t believe that includes alienating and belittling those that make what most of us who are followers of Christ consider to be a horrible choice. 

I frequently look at the pictures I have of Addie’s birth mom and long to wrap my arms around her again and tell her she is loved.  She is accepted.  She is pursued by a holy, gracious Father.  It breaks my heart that she is out there somewhere in Ethiopia, possibly struggling to feed her two sweet girls, while she is barely an adult, herself- but I am full of hope that my gracious Father will bring her aid- that through some ministry like Eyes that See, she will find dignified work and be able to care for herself and her children.  Her baby girl survived.  Will we now step up and offer this young mother the help she needs?  Let’s stop shouting and start doing something.  Let’s start recognizing the “sanctity of life” by helping those that are given the chance at life.

"Thank you Lord for the life of this little girl.  May you continue to protect her, and raise up people to help others like her."

* 40 million according to Guttmacher Institute.

Worth the Wait

One year ago today I spent the morning texting with my dear friends Erin and Deidre.  We had traveled together in October of 2012 to Ethiopia to meet our children for the first time.  On this day, they were heading back to Ethiopia to get their kids and bring them home. 

I was not.  I was taking Payton to gymnastics, getting ready for another weekend at home, while they were loading up their suitcases, full of happiness and anticipation that the time had finally come.  I was genuinely excited and glad for them and their sweet kiddos that I had grown to love.  But there was a part of me that was screaming, “This is soooooo NOT fair! I should be on that plane, too!  My Addie should be there at the transition home waiting on me!”  I was devastated that I wasn’t going back for her.

Billy and I sat in our kitchen in our then home that morning and talked about how we had been praying that the Lord would open our hearts to another child when the time came.  We took Payton to gymnastics, and as we were leaving, Billy’s phone rang.  It was our dear friend, Lesley, from Lifeline.  She was calling because she had information that two baby girls in Ethiopia were almost paperwork ready for referral.  I stared at Billy in disbelief as he told me we needed to start praying even more fervently for our hearts because we could have a referral as early as the following week. 

Late that afternoon, I was upstairs getting ready to meet my sister for coffee when Billy called from the basement to ask me to come down for a minute.  I trudged downstairs, thinking (as only a holy wife would), “This better be good… why can’t he just talk to me on the phone?”

When I walked into his “corner office,” as he called it (it was just the far corner of our completely unfinished, cold, concrete basement), Billy said, “She’s here, Lesley.” 

Some of the sweetest, most redemptive words ever spoken came out of her mouth next- “Are you ready to see your little girl?”

I sat in complete shock as the beautiful face of a tiny baby named “Yetnayet” appeared on our computer screen.  I was completely speechless other than to say, “Are you kidding me?” and “Oh, thank you Jesus.” 

That moment, that day, I saw tangibly, hope rising.  I saw redemption and faithfulness.  I saw the Lord’s hand and His sovereignty on clear display. 

Two days before, I had just written and posted my blog, Dear Addie,. My heart was still seared with the pain of losing my precious daughter, and now I was experiencing the polar opposite, exact extreme of emotion.  There was gladness and rejoicing.  He had readied my heart for this sweet girl in a way that only He is capable of doing. 

In my fleshly heart, there was apprehension.  Could I trust enough to walk this path again?  Was I ready for this?  People told us as we began to share the news, “Well, at least it can’t happen again,” and “This time will obviously be different.”  But the truth is, there are no guarantees with adoption.  There are no guarantees with anything in life, except for the guarantee of His love, His goodness, His faithfulness- the guarantee of HIM and who He is.  So, as we embarked again, we chose to fully experience the happiness of this new sweet baby, and trust that regardless of the outcome, He would remain the same.  To deny the fear we felt would be untruthful, but He gave us the faith we needed to give our fear to Him, step out, and walk ahead anyway. 

I looked up the meaning of her name almost immediately that day, and found that it meant “as far as the horizon.”  When we traveled to Ethiopia to meet her, we found out why she was given the name “Yetnayet,” but what her namer didn’t know was, her name had meaning to us as well.  Addie’s Ethiopian name, (her middle name to us), was “Mihret”, meaning mercy.  Payton’s middle name is “Grace.”  When you put our girls’ middle names together, they mean “grace and mercy as far as the horizon.”

Grace and mercy as far as the horizon.

That is what we’ve seen this year.  That’s what Ellie’s entrance into our family has put in living color.  There were moments in our grief where His presence, His grace, felt as far away as the horizon, but the truth is, it stretches as far as the horizon and beyond, and fills up every space between.  It’s always there.   It’s not just plain ole’ grace and mercy- although, that too, would be pretty wonderful- It’s grace and mercy as far as the horizon.

I don’t think it was a coincidence that we got the call for Ellie’s referral on a day when I was screaming at the Lord about “It’s not fair… I want my Addie… Why am I not on that plane?!”  I imagine Him chuckling as He watched my face when I first saw those “Sweet Cheeks,” as Payton calls them.  I wonder what He was thinking when I wrote those blogs about how ridiculously hard the wait was before my Ellie was even conceived.  I wonder what He’s thinking right now as you cry out to Him while you wait.  There are so many things we wait on- a new job, a house to sell, a husband, a prodigal child to return home, a child to call our own, a healing in our lives or in the lives of our loved-ones, and the list goes on and on.  Waiting is so hard, and after we're done waiting for one thing, it seems like we're waiting on something else.  We wait- and I imagine He sighs and shakes his head as we constantly let him know that "we have got a plan, if he will just listen."  Folks, His plan is better, we can be assured of that.  We can also be assured that He knows about waiting.  He is compassionate and empathetic, because He waits for us.  He waits for some of you to turn to Him and acknowledge Him as Lord and Savior in your life.

If you are the one for whom He’s waiting, I ask you, “What in the world are YOU waiting for?’’  Just do it.  Trust Him.  Admit that you in fact, do not have it all under control.  Admit that you do sin and fail and mess up daily (we all do, hate to break it to you).  Admit that you need His forgiveness.  Admit that you need Him, and decide today that you are gonna follow Him for the rest of your days- no you’re not going to be perfect- that’s why we need His “grace and mercy as far as the horizon.”  You stop waiting, and this day will be far more than a celebration in this family.  This will be a day that you forever seal your spot in His family- A day remembered as the day that you became the next child of God. 

I hope that this blog finds you trusting Him while many of you wait in agony for Him to move, to act, to just make a change in your life.  I can speak from experience, it’s worth the wait.  He makes it worth the wait.  He’s good, y’all.  Always is.

If You're Happy and You KNOW It

Today Billy and I and the girls are taking a road trip down to Nashville to spend the night at one of our favorite places- the Opryland Hotel. As we drive, I can't help remembering our trip home from the beach at about this same time last year.   We were still reeling from the news that Addie would never be coming home.   I think a total of about five words were spoken from South Carolina to Kentucky.  There was a feeling of helplessness in the air.  An overwhelming cloud of "how do we ever get past this?" hung over us.  There was nothing to say- just resignation to heavy, sad hearts.

Today the car is quiet again, but on this day, it is quiet in contentedness and calm.  There is a happy five year old, busily playing with her LeapPad and a sleeping baby, all cozied up with a blankie.  There is a mom and dad, slightly worn from the emotions of these past few days, but also full of hope and excitement for what the year ahead holds.  We are not content and calm because the pain is gone, because it's not. The answer to the question "how will we ever get past this?" is, we won't.  Our journey with Addie has forever changed the very fabric of this family, and there are permanent scars with her name on our hearts.  We will never be the same for having known her, loved her, and lost her.

The next anniversary we will remember will be January 18.  This is a whole different anniversary, though.  This was the day beauty began to rise- the day happiness began to creep back in- the day we first saw the amazing face of our Ellie Claire.

As I rocked this sweet child to sleep yesterday, I sat staring at her, trying to reconcile my absolute glee at being her mommy with my deep ache at not being Addie's.   My efforts were in vain.  It's simply not possible to dismiss the pain of losing Addie or the happiness of adding Ellie to our family.  Both are real, intense emotions.  So, what now?  Am I just stuck in a sea of  confusion?  One of Ellie's favorite songs is, "If You're Happy and You Know It."  Sometimes I think it might be appropriate for  me to pause the song, put a hold on the clapping, and say, "Ummmm, know it'?" That might be pushing it.  It's not that I'm not happy, because I am, indeed happy.  It's just that there's this whole mess of other emotions swirling around, too, and it's just all far too much for my finite brain to process.

This train of thought  leads me to consider, if everything had gone according to my original plan, Addie would be in my arms, sleeping... and then where would my Ellie be?  Would I be happy and know it, then?  Nope.  I'd be blissfully ignorant.  Blissful, yep, I could handle that, but ignorant?  Ignorant of my Ellie?  Not knowing my beautiful, funny, full of life, dramatic, silly, cuddly baby girl? I can't even bear the thought.   In order for me to gain one child, I first had to lose one... Oh my goodness, more complexities.   And yet-

 I know someone else that gave up a child in order to gain a whole big ol' flock of children.

Our Heavenly Father gave His one and only begotten son in order to have an open, restored relationship with me- with you.  I'm so thankful.  I'm so thankful Jesus prayed, "Not my will, but your's, Father."  I'm so thankful that Jesus willingly gave up His life for me and that the Father sacrificed His beloved, perfect Son, for my wretched, sinful self.  I'm so thankful that in His mercy He opened my heart and mind to His truth, and that now, when He looks at me, He doesn't see my "wretched, sinful self," but the righteousness of Christ.

I'm so thankful that He sees a bigger picture than I do, and that He sometimes says, "No."  Not gonna lie, I'd really really like a glimpse at that bigger picture a bit more often- I'd really like a small explanation as to why He says, "No."  That's not faith, though.  So, for now, I will trust.  I will rest in who He is and not drown in the muck of the inconsistency of how I feel.  Emotions are complicated and often distort our reality.  Therefore, I will base my reality on that which is steady and unchanging- Jesus Christ.   The Word tells us that the heart is deceptive above all else.  I will not just "follow my heart."  I will follow what I know.  I know He is good.  I know He loves me.  I know He is God.  I know HIM. I hope you do, too :)

Happy New Year, friends!  May 2014 be filled with so much of Him in our lives that He overflows onto all with whom we come in contact.  When others encounter us, may they encounter Him.

All Because of Christmas

I just love Christmas music- all sorts.  We have a pretty big collection, and it grows yearly.  So many carols have such rich, meaningful texts.  I could listen to the words of "O Holy Night," every day of the year- "A thrill of Hope, the weary world rejoices....'til he appeared and the soul felt its worth..."  Love. It.  Then there's the song I've heard on the radio about a million times this year- the one about "sometimes I cry at Christmas".... UGH.  Christmas music usually falls into one of two categories for me- the sacred, meaningful (or at least fun, i.e., "Rudolph") category, or the ridiculously cheesy, sappy, overly sentimental category- think "Christmas Shoes."  A few weeks ago I heard the song "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" for the first time this season and sat enjoying it, listening only partially to words I've heard so many countless Christmases before.  Nope, it's not too deep, but it's charming and cozy and makes me want to sit by the fire drinking hot cocoa.  Suddenly I almost chuckled at the words, "from now on our troubles will be miles away..." Hmm.  Nice sentiment, but not so true for a whole mess of people out there who hear this song each Christmas.

Christmas is actually, for some, the time of year when troubles are magnified and intensified. For some, it feels as if the whole world is rejoicing while they sit in their pain, just hanging on, to make it through the season.  Christmas evokes vivid memories for folks, and sometimes those memories ignite aches so deep it feels as though the heart might shatter. 

Here's where I am at Christmastime... I love "'Twas the Night Before Christmas."  I love trees, ornaments, bows, candles, wreaths, nativity sets, Santa figurines, and any other decoration for which I can find a spot in my own home or in yours.  I've already stated my deep appreciation for *most* Christmas music.  I love the food.  I love the family being together.  I love the crafts.  I simply adore the movies.  I love shopping for presents and finding the perfect gift for someone I love or even someone I've never met.

Christmas, for me, is also a very intense reminder of what we experienced last year.  On December 21st, 2012, we were supposed to receive word about what the judge had ruled with our precious Addie.  Instead, we were told we would have to wait until the 28th, which actually ended up being the 31st.  On Christmas Day, we were waiting to hear if our child was going to be taken away. 

As much as I love all that surrounds this season, honestly, those things are simply not enough to dim the aches of knowing one of my daughters is not here this Christmas,

nor will she ever be.  My troubles, though they originated across an ocean, are not "miles away," as the song states.  They are, instead, up close and personal. 

Tomorrow morning, amidst all the squeals and glee from two sugared-up little girls, Ellie will open some presents that were actually purchased for Addie last Christmas.  Addie's name is written on an ornament on our tree.   Her smile pierces my memories and her giggle echoes in my heart.  Last Christmas she was not here, but she was ours.  She was coming.  This Christmas we are experiencing what it means to truly have Christmas without her. 

She is not here.  BUT, there is One who is here.  -And no, I'm not speaking of Ellie.  I cannot tell you how thankful we are that she is here, that she is home for Christmas.  She brightens our days, fills our home and family with happiness, and is an absolutely precious, perfect addition to our family.  I enjoy her presence so much I am giddy sometimes.  I cannot imagine life without her.  This time last year, she was in an orphanage in Ethiopia, so to celebrate Christ's birth with her this year, overwhelms my heart with gladness.  However, the ONE who makes this holiday joyful in the midst of crazy painful memories is not Ellie.  It's not my funny, wonderful husband or my full-of-life, beautiful Payton.  It is my Jesus.  My family makes me insanely happy.  They constantly make me laugh and lift my spirits.  But, He is the One who makes my Christmas joyful.  He is the One who makes my heart soar above any trial and burst with gratitude and thankfulness.  My troubles may be up close and personal- but so is HE.  

Recently I looked back at our adventure with Addie and marveled at how we survived it still standing.  With my intense history of depression, our tragic loss was a sure-fire set up for a complete downward spiral in my life.  There is one way, and only one way- or should I say place- we stood-

In Jesus.  

In His grace, he gave us the faith we needed to trust in times when our fleshly hearts would have doubted.  In His grace, the Spirit replaced the lies of the enemy with the truths of His perfect Word. We survived because He was walking each step with us.  He shielded me from the pit where the enemy wanted this all to leave me.  The evidence of his goodness shines as bright as day to me in the peace, hope, and joy we had even in the midst of all our pain. 

When the Christmas season began this year, I was a bit aggravated with the Lord. Why did He allow this to be a time of year when I remember such hard, hurtful experiences? I mean, couldn't He spare Christmas?  One answer has become abundantly clear to me recently.  Because we were so aware of how desperately we needed Him at Christmas last year, we are more aware this Christmas of the amazing blessing that He is readily available to us because of Christmas.  We have an intense realization of the hope, peace, and joy we are celebrating coming to the world in the person of Jesus.  We officially lost our girl on December 31st, which at the time seemed like a sentence to start each year with grief, and yes, we will experience grief that day- BUT we will also start each year with a fresh reminder that HE is the only One who never leaves, never changes, never fails.  We will start each year remembering to cling to the Father.

 

Isaiah 9:2 & 6 say, "The people who walk in darkness have seen a great light... For to us a child is born, to us a son is given."  Jesus is the Light of the World.  When I view my pain in His light, it looks so completely different.  My pain looks like an instrument of grace- a way to bring him glory- a fountain of blessing found in redemption.  It looks like the beginnings of "beauty from ashes."  My pain looks so very temporary.  I am absolutely convinced that there will be a day when the shadows of my heartache will completely disappear because his light will be everywhere.  It will fill every corner and nook and cranny, and there will be no room for the darkness of hurt.  There will be no more night- only the brightness of day and only rejoicing.  No more tears, no more sadness.  All of this, because He came.  In the form of a tiny baby boy, he came.  And in that one instant, all pain became temporary.  Hope arrived- hope that is firm and rooted.  Peace arrived- peace that stands in the midst of turmoil and tragedy.  Joy arrived- joy that just doesn't always make sense.  Love came down.  Love was wrapped in cloths and laid in a smelly manger.  And Love eventually headed to a cross and hung and died.  But, praise the Lord, Love beat death.  Love rose again and is seated at the right hand of the Father. And praise the Lord, HE IS COMING BACK!

 I can sing "Joy to the World," "Hark the Herald Angels," and all those other wonderful carols because of Christmas, not in spite of what we sometimes label as “Christmas.”  I can enjoy all the celebration and "extras" this time of year because this is the season when my hope and my joy and my peace became possible.  My pain is in the background.  His love is in the foreground.  It has to be.  It's too darn good not to be.

I am so thankful for the blessing of Jesus- for his birth.  I am also abundantly thankful that His blessings are frequently tangible.  I see my sweet girls and my godly husband, and I am overwhelmed at His goodness.  He gives good gifts, friends.  I pray that regardless of what this time of year brings you and regardless of that which it reminds you, you will be first reminded of Him.  He is worth celebrating no matter what your temporary situation may be. 

 Jesus is here!!! Glory to God in the highest!!!  And even if it seems the least likely scenario in your current setting- Peace is on earth!!!  He is Emmanuel- Our God is with us!  IS, not just was, with us!!!! Hallelujah!

May you have the Merriest of Christmases and experience a constant awareness of how good our God is in the following year!

Our Life, in Numbers

I am not a numbers person. Math and I are not friends. The Lord, however, likes numbers. Alot. The Bible is full of specific numbers- that upon studying, give us not a vague description, but a clear picture and understanding of something. So, with that in mind, I give to you the numbers illustrating the beginning of our life as a family of four.  Now, these numbers are obviously not exact, but you get the picture...

4 months as a US citizen

127 days home

45 nights of uninterrupted sleep

80 loads of itty-bitty clothes washed

975 diapers changed

33 days home before she sat up on her own for the first time.

8 hair products purchased- for a BABY

2 sleep caps purchased

0 sleep caps worn more than twice

7000 feet, army crawled

75 feet crawled, up on all fours

4 tiny, but thoroughly enjoyed bowls of ice cream

10 boxes of Kleenexes used to wipe her nose

3 boxes of Kleenex, torn up for entertainment

6000 laughs

2567 games of peekaboo

395 renditions of “Jesus Loves Me”

2 days a week -on average - we spent at home before Ellie

5.5 days a week- on average- we spend at home, now that she's here

10 times cleaning up vomit- no, not spit up- vomit.

102 socks taken off

52 socks lost

10 doctor appointments

1 family vacation

2,345,690,175 kisses received by Ellie

578 kisses given by Ellie, 176 of which were received by stuffed animals, and 28 of which were given to herself in the mirror

256 tickle fests

12 outfits ruined by... well... poo. Lots. Of. Poo.

748 times complete strangers have just stared, not saying anything...

379 times complete strangers have stared and said how cute she is, or how they've always wanted to adopt, or how they have been to Kenya, Tanzania, {insert other random African country}, etc. 

1 time someone asked if I got to "pick her out?"

1 time I sat in stunned silence, finally answering, "Ummmm, no.... No."

1 time an unknown woman walked in to a nursery where we were sitting, picked Ellie up, and gave me a startled, "Oh!" 

when I informed her as politely as possible that "Actually, she is mine."

1 time Payton almost clocked a kid who argued that Ellie was not her sister. Big sister claws appeared for the first time.

7456 pictures taken

2 times calling me “Mama”

231 fits thrown when she didn't get her way... Oops, make that 232 now.

127 times I've thought, "I can't do this."

127 times God has reminded me that His power is made perfect 

in my weakness.

127 times He's proven it.

4 times she's emptied the dog bowl.

5 new teeth

987 times we've had to move her away from electrical outlets, cabinets, curtains, and other various household hazards.

1 time her daddy unknowingly put her clothes on backwards, 

and left them that way until I discovered an hour later. 

I guess only one time is pretty good, actually...

26 vials of poo collected. Yes, poo, again.

1 crazy expensive prescription from a compounding pharmacy- 

no worries, we met our deductible months ago :)

68 times she has refused to eat the food offered.

1 first birthday party

683 toys thrown

135 times she's said, “uh-ohhhhhh”

385 times she's squealed and frantically waved her arms in excitement when her big sister has entered a room

85 times she's fallen asleep in my arms

1 Tinkerbell Halloween costume

341 steps she's taken holding our hands

16 seconds- the longest she's stood on her own

30 minutes- the longest she's "sat" for me to fix her hair... Nope, nothing fancy, but I'm new to these curls.

15 times I've had to chase her while fixing her hair

25 times I've had to chase her while getting her dressed

335 times she's stopped crying when I sang

6 happy times in a swing

14 shots (as in immunizations, not tiny glasses of alcohol)

634 bottles taken

15 Costco size cans of formula

10 gallons of milk

3 bitings of my shoulder

16 times she's cried a bone-chilling, heartbreaking, haunting cry- 

that only comes from a child who's experienced 

painful, gut-wrenching tragedy

17 times she's cried to let us know she has awoken from a nap 

or from a night's sleep

157 times she's cried in the middle of the night

31 days she sucked her fingers when she got home

12 days she's sucked her fingers since that first month home

25 times we've had billing issues with insurance,

 because her legal name is Yetnayet, not Ellie

3 gained pounds

2 inches grown

57 times she's laughed at herself.

2047 raspberries blown

10 times I've looked at Ellie, and thought, "Am I really your momma?"

10 times The Lord has answered that question with a resounding "Yes."

36 times I've felt like she will never know me and trust me as momma, 

and yet…

31 times she has cuddled into my chest

75 times she has reached for me

56 times she has cried when I left the room.

62 times she's about jumped out of someone's arms for me

45 times she has gripped my arm firmly when others came near

37 times she's crawled to me when she was hurt or upset

137,004 minutes of pure joy

113 times I’m pretty sure I’ve already failed as her mommy

113 times I KNOW His grace has covered my failures

235 times since she's been home I have mourned for her birth mother- 

each time she misses a new milestone in Ellie's life

3,479,192 times I have been awestruck- with both gladness for me 

and sorrow for a woman in Ethiopia, that the Lord, in his mercy, 

is allowing me to be called "Mama" by this child.

1 child adopted,

4 lives forever changed for the better.

1 huge "Thank you, Jesus."