Meine Klein Welt

Her Story

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“So, what’s her story?”

We get  asked this question a lot. It’s an interesting question. Most of the folks who ask are people who love our family. People who want to pray for us, and love on us, and know us better. And isn’t that part of knowing, learning one another’s stories?

There are things about her story that are sweet and fun to share. She giggles herself to sleep. She LOVES to cuddle. She thinks her Daddy’s dammit doll is the funniest thing ever.

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There are things we cannot share because we’re not allowed.

There are things that are a part of our family story, things we love to share. She got to spend her first week of life with an awesome family that we love and are so grateful to know. Her name means “miracle” because that is exactly what she is. The first time we met her, she snuggled into her daddy like she was home.

There are things about her first family that are not a part of our story. They are not ours to share. One day Miss M. may decide to share some of these things. We want to respect her and her story enough to let her keep these things as close to her heart as she wants. We want her to choose when and if these are things she wants her dear ones to know.

Here’s what we do want to share. Miss M. has two families who love her. She is wanted and adored. And, well, pretty amazing all around.

Here’s what we would ask of those who are just the seriously curious type. If you’re curious about her first family, please pray for them. Please don’t assume things about them. There are a gazillion reasons that children are placed in foster care. You might make a lucky guess as to her first family’s situation, but likely not. And, truly, it serves no good purpose. Just know that they love her. Know that a great way for you to love Miss M. is to love and pray for her first family.

If you want cute, sweet stories about who she is and the things she does every day that make us smile and laugh out loud. Feel free to ask us those questions. We love sharing those things.

When Your Heart is Tugged in Two

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 This journey. We are learning so much. Growing so much.

This tiny one who holds our hands and stares into our eyes – she has stolen our hearts. Fully.

Foster care is a strange beast. It is born of tragedy, but it has the potential to turn the ashes of that tragedy into great beauty. The struggle is that no matter the end result, someone wins and someone loses. One set of parents will raise and love and know this beautiful girl. One set of parents will have to say good-bye.

Bigger than that, our little one loses something in this. No matter what, part of her little heart will be broken. No matter how this turns out she has been born into loss. No little loss this. Huge loss. Soul-touching loss. Because no matter what happens, she loses one set of parents. This is what brings me to my knees. This is what brings me to cry out to the Father on her behalf. To cry out for soul-deep healing that only he can provide.

Our hope is to be able to adopt. Our hope is to bring little Miss M. into our family. She is already our daughter for now and forever regardless of whether she leaves us one day to reunite with her birth family. I guess that’s kind of the way family works. Once you’re in, you’re in for life.

Here’s my burden. I love this little girl. I love her parents. I want good things for them. I want health and stability for them. I want hope for them. I want all good things for them because they are hers, forever. More than that, they are children of the King. They are loved by God, and they are beautiful in His sight.

This is what tugs my heart in two each and every day. I desperately want good and beautiful things for Miss M.’s parents. I desperately want her to be ours forever. How does a heart deal with such conflicting desires? How does one pray when your prayers seem to contradict one another? For now, I pray what is on my heart and ask the Lord to weed out any selfishness. I ask him to make Miss M. the winner.

Parenthood: Week One

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It’s been one week. One week since this precious baby girl came into our family. One week since our hearts were changed forever. Praise be to God!

Here are some of the things I’ve learned this week:

  • Daddies are important. Crazy, out of this world, important.
  • Love at first sight is a real and true thing.
  • Constipation can make everybody cry.
  • Praying without ceasing is not only possible, it is, in fact, a necessity.
  • Baby snores are A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E.
  • We are well-loved by amazing people who can accomplish great things, quite literally, overnight.
  • My husband has no self-control when it comes to shopping in the baby department.
  • The days with our children pass far too quickly. Already. Far too quickly.
  • Showers, getting dressed, and cleaning house are all overrated. Brushing your teeth is not.
  • Googling “baby poop” is something people do. Some people. Apparently.
  • Our little one does not like being naked. At all. Ever.
  • Every day is grace.

“I will give thanks to You, for [this tiny one is] fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well.” – Psalm 193:14 paraphrased

Always Grace

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Seven years ago, on a Thanksgiving Day, I made one of the best decisions of my life when Matt and I decided to give this relationship thing a go. In the years since then, we have had some amazing experiences and blessings that have us shouting hallelujahs toward heaven. We have also had some heartaches that brought us face to the ground in brokenness. Always grace.

Shortly after we were married we started trying to build a family. For four years we rode the roller coaster of fertility treatments, pregnancy, and loss. Four miscarriages. Never a “viable” embryo. We decided that the best decision for our family was to stop the fertility treatments. My body was exhausted and our hearts were worn thin. We were told that without the extra help of fertility drugs, there was a less than 1% chance of us becoming pregnant. So much grief. Always grace.

Then, in June of 2012, two weeks before we were to move back to the US, a positive pregnancy test. We headed to the doctor with discussions about the inaccuracies of statistics and percentages. We knew what was going to happen, because we knew what always happens when we get pregnant. As the doctor began the ultrasound he turned to us with tears and said, “Do you see that?” A heartbeat. Amazing grace.

In October of that year we found out we were having a little girl. Our Madeleine Grace. In November we had a doctor’s appointment to check on a concern with her spine. As the doctor started the ultrasound, we knew immediately. No heartbeat. Our Maddie went to meet her Jesus. Grief beyond measure. Always grace.

This I know – our deepest grief is not beyond the reach of God’s redemptive hand. In this last year, I have asked the Lord to show me the redemption he’s working through our loss. His answer has been mighty. It has been gentle. It has been loving. And it has been, always, grace.

This morning, on Thanksgiving Day, I woke up to the most beautiful, most precious answer the Lord has given me to my prayers. The sounds of a brand new life. Matt and I are fostering a sweet little baby girl. She came to us yesterday at just a week and a half old. She came into this world immediately experiencing tremendous grief and great loss. The kind of grief and loss that only the Lord can redeem. I cannot wait to journey through life with her. I cannot wait to rejoice in the good and hold her tight through the bad. I cannot wait to see her meet Jesus. I cannot wait for her to learn that it is all, always grace.