Therapy Part 2

OK, if you're just joining the group therapy session, pull up a chair and scroll down below and read Therapy Part 1.

Let's see...where did I leave off?

Before church, when we checked our mail, we found the password to access B's information. Hesitantly, I handed it over to Tony. All this build up. All the prayer. My prayer about this moment was, "Please, God. Make this clear. Make the decision clear."

Well, several minutes later, after we finished reading B's full biography and background, we sat back and looked at each other. B, the beautiful girl, was not meant to be our daughter. I cannot explain it. It was like Tony and I looked at each other and just knew. We both immediately said, she isn't meant to be our daughter. How could God lead us here when we know beyond a reason of a doubt that she isn't ours?

I am not going share anything about B's background. Legally, I can't. But beyond that, I wouldn't want to. It's her story. It's personal. And, friends, it's gut wrenching. I gasped throughout the profile and teared up often. This little baby girl...her life....robbed. The conclusion we both came to was that it would in no way be fair to B, or to our girls to bring her home. We expected many needs, but her biggest need is a family that can love on her individually and solely. She needs 100% attention. And our attention here would be divided. So unfair to her, to our daughters, and to us.

Church that evening was rough. Every time the music would start up, my tears would start up. This child of God. This precious child was someone's baby at some point. And all she wanted was love. The next few days Tony and I were just kind of numb. We didn't tell a lot of people...really, only those who asked. It was so hard. We grieved the loss of her life. We grieved the loss of this child that we had prayed for. Did we doubt our decision to let her go? No. Did we doubt God? No. Never, not once. We just grieved a little girl who would not come to know our love, except through prayer.

As instantly as we knew she wasn't to be our daughter, I also instantly knew that I would come unglued at the first person who said, "Well, maybe God led you to her because she'll lead you to your next child." Yes, that's possible, but I refused to believe that B was simply a stepping stone. She was a child. One that we had fiercely prayed and cared for.

So where does that leave us? Kind of confused. But resting in the knowledge that our God knows the rest of the story. We have not ceased in praying for B. She will forever be loved by us. She opened up our hearts to a group of children that have so very few people fighting for them. These teens are not embraced the way newborns are. There are 145,000,000 million orphans available worldwide. How is it I never knew about these kiddos right in our back yard?

Please my friends. Please, please, please pray for these children. So many of them have just been dealt a bad hand. They are pawns. They have little to no control over what happens to them. Who will be their voice? From here on out, I choose to be. I have to be. How? I'm not sure. But I will be. Tony and I will be. I mean, who is talking to them about Jesus? Anyone? Who is tucking them in? Who is telling them that they are loved? Even teenagers need tenderness. It's KILLING me. Will we bring a teen home? Or will our next child be an infant? A girl? A boy? Or is our family complete? Only God knows. And thankfully, I trust Him. But regardless, others WILL know about these kiddos. The ones no one thinks about. Others will know, and hopefully move on their behalf.

So there you have it. That was only the BEGINNING of the week. A loss.

The middle of the week wasn't much of an improvement. However, it was entirely my fault. I'm a moron. I tanned at the tanning bed. Wait. tanned is totally the wrong word. More like fried, cooked, baked, broiled, and blistered. It was terrible. That was Tuesday night, and by Wednesday morning, I was up dry heaving, shivering, panicking, crying, and longing to be dead. One doctor's visit later, she confirmed what I thought. I got burned. Badly. Lovely.

So I couldn't move. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't play with the girls. Couldn't snuggle. Couldn't do hardly anything without wincing. Miserable. But little did I know, it would only get worse. No, not the blisters. I mean, they would hang on (are STILL HERE TODAY) but the week is what I'm referring to.

No, I'm not usually an Eeyore type person, but this was turning out to be a ho hum week. Most people live for the week to come to an end, but not me. On Thursday, I was going to have a doctor's appointment with a new gyn oncologist. Yeah, oncologist. I knew this appointment would determine a lot.

There's some history leading up to a visit to an oncologist, but this post is getting to be as long or longer than the first. So, I'll leave you here. But the therapy isn't over yet.

Life is scary. How do non-believers do it? How do they get up and face every day's trials without God?

I'll share more later...thanks for praying and loving Tony and me!