How has Million Ways to Mother been around long enough to have a Fourth Annual National Adoption Month series?? This is by far my favorite month working my blog, because I get to read stories from all of you! Every time I get sent a story I have tears rolling down my cheeks. God is so so good! Every story is unique and every story is exactly how it is supposed to be. We couldn’t write our own stories more perfectly. His plan is PERFECTION.
This time I will have all of the posts on this post that way it is easier to come and read everyone’s stories. Please comment on the stories if you so feel inclined as well as post to your Facebook for others to read. These mamas who wrote them are reading your feedback. I am sure they feel vulnerable sharing their personal stories for all of us to enjoy and ravish in.
I pray every month prior to November that I will be able to find women who will be able to touch a reader’s heart. I know that by bearing our testimonies to one another that we can be a beacon of light to one another.
I pray this little space of Million Ways to Mother is a space for women to feel loved and possibly to feel of their Heavenly Father’s love for them. This life is not easy but possibly reading that someone else is going through a tiny inkling of what you might be going through might be able to lighten your burden just a little.
Each one of you have changed my life for the better and I thank you for supporting me, for every share on Facebook, every like or comment on Instagram, and for just reading and subscribing to my blog. Now please grab a Diet Coke, hot chocolate, coffee whatever is your thing; put your feet up and enjoy some time to yourself as you read the touching words of our friends’ adoption stories. We will be continuing throughout the month adding new stories so be sure to follow us on instagram @millionwaystomother Facebook at @millionwaystomother.
He laid on my bare chest one more time as my little boy. I said a prayer out loud and made him lots of promises. I promised him one day I would answer all his questions. I promised him one day he would understand.
Adoption itself should be viewed as a celebration! A celebration of selflessness, sacrifice, love, and dreams coming true!
How could someone’s tragic loss be our unfathomable gain? How would I ever fully understand this paradox?
My husband had brought up adoption before, and it made me really mad. Adoption meant I was giving up. I never give up, that’s just not me. I avoided anything and everything that had to do with adoption.
I will never forget the day when I placed my precious baby girl into my mother’s arms and had to say goodbye forever. I had one hour to tell her that I loved her with more love than I had ever known was possible. One hour to say goodbye. I tried to memorize every detail of her perfect face, her cupid bow lips, long lashes, and dark luscious hair.
I was his mother, but for only a season. In the days that followed, my heart broke as the silence of an empty, childless house surrounded me. I grieved the loss of my first child.
Everyone knew someone who had adopted, who had fostered, or who, for reasons I still cannot understand, had adoption horror stories begging to be shared.
Typically when people think of those parents their thoughts consist of “Oh well they probably deserved to lose their kids anyways”. Our compassion meter is incredibly low. But this father took the mic and wept as he told his story.
“The baby’s name is Isabella Marie.” Everything changed in that very moment. My husband and I looked at each other and our eyes got wide. This was not a coincidence and we knew that. We have loved the name Isabella and have thought about naming our future baby girl this very name.
It’s times like these where you don’t feel like you have the energy or the faith to move forward, but we knew we had to. We somehow picked ourselves up and decided to try again….back to shots, calendars, multiple doctor appointments each week, procedures and then we waited…..
Foster and adoption, two words that were not in my vocabulary, two words that had never entered my mind, not together or separate. These two words mean more to me now than I could express.
Have you ever been out with your kids and told how beautiful your grandchildren are, well I have. In fact it happens quite often. In my wildest dreams I did not think I would be fifty and have three children under the age of 8.
We were living on cloud nine!!! Rather than wait for something to knock us off course, I guess you can say that we decided to rock our own worlds by not just adding to our family but somewhat multiplying our family.
I saw one lonely pink line month after agonizing month. I would dread walking to the mailbox, because I knew there would be another baby shower invitation mixed in along with the bills.