Abandonment & Mommies

Last Christmas, I started a tradition--one I'll keep up with until it gets old or my ideas are worse than old bologna.  I was poor, and needed to make a present for my nephews and niece.  So I wrote and illustrated a book about the (future) time they came to visit Aunt Marla in India.  I've already written their Christmas books for this year, which they'll receive via YouTube, as I realized I do not like illustrating.  And then, tonight, I started to write a story for my girls--a story of how their Father has been and will be with them, from the moment they were born, through all their growing up.

I kept getting distracted though, as my friend gave me the pictures she took of us.  I don't know what it was, but something about looking repeatedly at those beautiful girls of mine, in their beautiful dresses, all dolled up, smiling beautifully in gorgeous pictures--something in them--and in their story--hit me.

Without exaggerating, I can say I looked at the album at least fifteen times, smiling every single time.  I mean, can you look at Jackie here, and not smile?

But in the midst of the smiling, reality hit.  And tears came.  Tears came because in order for these beautiful girls to be here, in my life, in these beautiful photos, someone abandoned them.  Tears came because in a biographical storybook, that chapter just can't be left out.  It's a part of them and their history.

I have read a lot of books on adoption--specifically, I am probably one of the most well-prepared 22-year olds in regards to intercultural/racial adoption issues in America. Yet I still didn't expect this to hurt so badly.  It pains because someone--for whatever reason--abandoned this beautiful, almost-five year old Jackie when she was a tiny infant. It hurts knowing that Naomi lost her family at age six, and that she likely has beautiful, vivid memories of what once was but is no more.  I understand sometimes the mothers/parents must feel as if they have no choice, and I understand that I don't understand a lot of the circumstances my girls' biological mothers have gone through, but it still hurts.  It hurts me because I know it has caused pain for my girls--whether it is pain they have already experienced, or pain that is coming another day.

Maybe part of why it hurts is because I am here for awhile, but I can't be a "forever Mummy," not to all eight anyways. 

This next part may be a bit stupid.  I normally don't get into the philosophical, "let's ask a question that has no answer in this lifetime" type of thing, much less on a blog where people can give their own input if they choose.  And I am in no way/shape/form saying that what is discussed below is either true or biblical, but here I go:

If you've ever read the book about the boy who went to heaven when he was on the operation table at age 6, his story goes that he knew it was heaven because he saw Jesus, his grandfather, and his sister.  When he told his parents about his sister, they asked why his living sister was there, and he said "no, my other sister." Apparently, they'd never told him, but his mom had had a miscarriage once upon a time.  (This is the sweetened, condensed version.)

Do you think orphans who have passed away before meeting their earthly Forever families meet them in heaven? I'd like to think so.  I'd like to think that the kids who "age out" of adoption meet their forever families in heaven--meet who they were supposed to be paired with, or even someone who had never touched adoption paperwork.  I'd like to think that all the childless, but child-desiring couples around world get to rejoice in the next lifetime when they find the fifteen children deemed to be theirs.

I know it doesn't matter, and I know my children have a Father regardless. He is enough of a Forever Family.  But still, just a thought. 

Back to reality: thank you for giving so much already to my girls' Christmas.  So many Christmas gifts have come in, and I'm excited! I've updated and added to the Walmart Registry (Marla Davison, December 25) based off what has come so far.  Unashamedly, I'll openly say I get giggly and might even have squealed once when I look at the pictures of what people have given, and get messages from people about what they can do.  So thank you!  And please, continue to spread the word, if you will.