Thursday, April 7, 2011

Today he is 10...

years old. Ouch.

It's double digits from here on out for this guy. The Chairman. The son I never thought that God would allow me to bear. About 2 years after James died, I was asked by a researcher who was studying the effect of X-linked SCIDs (Severe Combined Immunodeficiency) in families. Specifically she was interested in the long term effects of chronic grief experienced by families who were affected with multiple diagnoses.

In other words, this was my family that she was interested in interviewing. I do not remember many of the specific questions. I do however, remember one of the last questions that she asked me. She wanted to know what I would consider the one thing that would be most significant in my emotional healing.

I told her that I wanted to be able to bear a healthy son, but that I did not think that was ever possible because to us a 50/50 chance was not one we were willing to take. I told her that I did not believe that God would ever allow us to have that son and we were not willing to attempt another pregnancy. We had decided to build our family through adoption. Period.

Chess at that time was almost 2 years old. Between his first and third birthdays we experienced three failed adoption attempts. My view of the Lord was that suffering was His designated plan for our lives. I did not believe that goodness from Him meant an answer to my specific heart desires. He had become a big God only for other people.

Pele came home to us in May 2000, on Mother's Day. I was blessed and knew it. If even reluctantly so. God had shown His hand on our behalf. But I was not willing to think that I should ask for anything more. So I settled down into being the mom of two little boys under three years old. I was busy, for sure.

The end of July 2000 we took a trip to my mother-in-law's house. Husband's birthday is that weekend and it was a time of celebration. But my heart was heavy because I suspected that the secondary infertility I had been previously diagnosed with was perhaps about to surprise us. I had found out that I was pregnant with James on Husband's birthday 6 years previously. It was a deja vu that did not give right goosebumps.

When we got home I told Husband that I was afraid I was pregnant. And I really meant the afraid part because 50/50 and my view of how God would choose to deal with us equaled certain sorrow. Husband was obviously upset as well. I told him I would test in the morning.

That night was filled with hard dreams full of hurt: a call from the hospital to come and get James. A desperate running through hospital hallways asking everyone where was my son? The astonished and sad looks on faces that only confirmed again that he had died.

I woke up with tears on my face. And I walked into the bathroom to confirm at that point what I knew was true. Two lines that should have delighted, broke my heart again.

When I told Husband, he hugged me tightly and said we would trust God. My trust was so very small. I contacted the OB/Gyn and explained our situation. The next several months were full of a tenuous balance of rising joy that a child was a blessing no matter what and that sufferings still can and still do accompany blessings. Multiple hospital and blood tests were also required for our circumstances, yet more reminders that this child, this pregnancy was different.

Our goal was that this baby was to be a girl. A girl ran the 50/50 chance of being a carrier, not of being affected with SCIDs. To accomplish that I looked only at girl clothes and we picked out only girl names. Remember, my trust was not very big.

God, however, is big and He had planned to show the me of little faith just how big of faithfulness He is.

To be continued....

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