Saying Good-Bye to our Fuzzy Foster Baby

seas 1.jpg

The fostering agency we work with asked us to create a photo album to document the last nine months we’ve had with our foster son. As I was looking for quotes to put in the album, I came across the one above and it stuck with me because soon we’ll be saying good bye to our fuzzy foster baby. He is almost 10 months old now and we’ve had him since birth. The tiny, premature, five pound little bundle that was handed to me nine months ago is now a thriving and happy baby ninja who literally does not stop moving and surprises us every day with his stealthiness. Of all the countries and islands and babies in the world, we were given him. It has truly been a privilege.

Over the next week or so, he will be transitioning to another family as we are not allowed to bring him to the U.S. and as I mentioned previously, Costa Rican Social Services doesn’t allow foster families to adopt (of course we tried). As I prepared his album, I was thinking about what a privilege it was to have spent these last nine months with him. It hasn’t always been easy, and it most definitely won’t be easy to see him go, but God allowed us to meet him and raise him for this period of time on purpose. Of all the babies and all the families, somehow we ended up together and I pray that the time we had with him created a foundation in him that will set him up for blessing in the future.

J 1 mes

There are a lot of emotions surrounding saying good bye, but most of all we’re thankful for and humbled by the privilege of being a part of J’s life.  Many people make comments about how he should be ours and how unfair it all is, but truly, he never was ours. God entrusted him to us for a time and God is far more aware of J’s care than we are. So we entrust him back into the hands of the perfect Father, knowing that God is more than able to guard what was always His anyway.

Of course it’s a struggle. We knew it was going to be hard when we signed up to foster. Naturally it is heartbreaking to give him up, but it is more than worth it. It is far more important that J learn how to form an attachment than it is for our family to protect ourselves from the pain of losing that attachment. Rather than laying in a crib all day in an orphanage, he was a part of a family that taught him how to love and be loved. In all sincerity, we didn’t always have perfect attitudes and we definitely had days we were exhausted and questioned why we volunteered to foster, but there were far more good days than bad. We know he’s too little to remember us, but we know that the rocking him in the middle of the night, the physical therapy we gave him several times a day, the word of God being read to him at bedtime, and the love showered on him by us and those around us have profoundly stimulated his physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual development.

So we have a lot of peace. We’re reminded that life isn’t about us. It’s about Him. If He asks us to receive a newborn and then give that baby up ten months later, we will. If He asks us to move to another country with only a vague idea of what He is calling us to, we will. We trust that God has all of this in His hands and that He has incredible and unimaginable plans for both J and our family. We can move forward knowing that while we didn’t do everything perfectly, we did our best to do what God asked us to do and walk as Jesus walked (1 John 2:5-6). We have learned so much, grown in incredible ways, opened our hearts and our home, died to ourselves over and over again, laughed a lot, cried a little, loved well, and have tried to bring a little more of God’s kingdom to earth.

We love you and will miss you J!

J 9 meses

 

Advertisements

Our “Bright White” Biracial Kid

One of my favorite stories from the time Mariah spent in the NICU is about some confusion the nurses had over Mariah’s skin color. When Mariah was born, she was a little purplish-looking. I’ve never birthed a biracial baby before, so I assumed Costa Rican babies came out a little more plum-colored than the average white kid. The not-so-comical part of the story is that Mariah was purple because her blood was septic and her collapsed lung was preventing good oxygen flow to her blood. Sadly, she was purple from bad blood.

Purplish?

Purplish? This is right after she was born and before we knew she was so sick.

At the time, everyone assumed with me that she was just going to be dark like her daddy. Albin’s not super dark; but he’s clearly Latino, and if you leave him in the sun too long (even with SPF 90 sunscreen), he claims that he turns so black that he’s blue (what does that even mean?). Anyway, my point is, she was dark and her hair was dark at first too. After we made it through the part of us almost losing her and then her miraculous recovery, she had to stay in the hospital for a while to finish the strong intravenous antibiotic she was prescribed. She was taken off the respirator and all the other monitors, tubes, and IVs had been discontinued.

As I arrived one morning to start my all-day vigil at her bedside, I noticed that she was hooked up to several monitors again. My heart plummeted and my out-of-control emotions took over and gave me a drippy nose and watery eyes. I shakily went to ask the nurse what had happened to Mariah overnight and here is how our conversation proceeded:

Me: Why is Mariah hooked up to all the monitors again? (Sniffle)

Nurse: Because she got a little white during the night.

Me: White?! Like white skin?

Nurse: Yes, white. Very white skin.

Me: So?

Nurse: Well we thought maybe she was having oxygen problems or blood pressure issues and that’s why she turned white.

Me: Did you find any problems with her oxygen or blood pressure?

Nurse: No. It is so weird. Everything is perfectly fine. She is just so white.

Me (starting to smile): So her blood is getting better and she is turning white?

Nurse: Yes.

Me (cracking up): Have you seen her mother? Real white.

Nurse (starting to laugh): Do you think she’s just white like you? That would explain a lot actually. We don’t see a lot of bright white babies in here so it was a little surprising.

Me (thinking): If you want to see bright white, you should see my booty.

Turns out, my biracial kid is white with light hair. Everyone tells me she looks like a white Albin. I’m just thankful her blood is in good shape. The nurses and I had the rare chance to burst into laughter that day, and it was moments like those that kept me sane. We never would have thought that the healthier Mariah became, the lighter her skin would be. The good news is that she tans well because I can’t imagine the amount of money I would spend on sunscreen in CR if she was still as bright white as my rear.

IMG_2001

Pretty white I suppose… 🙂